
♦ 


















THE THIRD ALARM 






JOHN J. BRESNAN 

CHIEF OF THE SIXTH BATTALION, NEW YORK FIRE DEPARTMENT 
KILLED DECEMBER 29TH, 1894 










THE 

THIRD ALARM 

A Story of the New York Fire Department 


With an Introduction on the Life and Career 
of John James Bresnan, a Batallion Chief 
of the New York City Fire Department 


By JAMES L. FORD 

Author of “ Hypnotic Tales , ” tl Dr. Dodd’s School, ' ' “ The Brazen 
Calf" “The Wooing of Folly ," etc. 


NEW EDITION 

WITH TWO COLORED PLATES AND 
NINETEEN OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS 



NEW YORK 

BRENTANO’S 

FIFTH AVENUE 
1908 



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LIBRARY of <Xm.HRF.S3 
Two Copies KfeOitv^. 

APR 2b "1908 

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1 < OOPY a. 


Cofymght, 1893, BY BRENTANO’S 
Cofyright, 1907, BY BRENTANO’S 



0 ?- 1^0 


Zbi* JSooft 


Is Dedicated by Its Author 
to 

A NEW YORK FIREMAN 

JOHN J. BRESNAN 


Chit/ of Sixth Battalion , N. T. F. D. 





List of Illustrations. 


PAGE 

Portrait of John James Bresnan. . Frontispiece / 
“Well, my boy, what can I do for you?” . . . . 3 x 

“Well, Pete, old fellow, I’ve heard of you many a 

time.” 

Chief Trask explains the fire box to Bruce 17/ 

“For fully a minute Bruce stood looking at the house.” . 47 7 
Bruce tells Laura the story of his visit to Mr. Dexter’s 


house 72 

Bruce in Mr. Dewsnap’s “fire library.” 79 

“Never in his life had Bruce known such a reckless ride.” 91 

“She was certainly very deaf.” 98 . 

Bruce delivers a lecture on botany. 122 / 

“Did you get the beggars’ time?” 136 , 

“He managed to climb out on the ladder.” 156 ^ 

Laura visits Bruce in the hospital 190 

Then Laura began to cry. ' 202 

“So you’ve been in the hospital, have you?” . . . .225 

“My mother is buried here.” 248 

“Mr. Dexter * * * held out his hand for the address.” . 257 ^ 

“Dere’s an answer ter dat.” . * 286 

“And so this is the business you conduct, is it?” . .317 

“The horses bounded to their places.” . . 343 ' 

“A single slip or false step on his part meant death.” . . 368 
















Introduction. 


JOHN JAMES BRESNAN. 

A NEW YORK FIREMAN. 

LARGE part of the practical information 



** on the. subject of fires and fire-fighting 
contained within this book was furnished to 
the author by the late John James Bresnan, at 
that time Chief of the Sixth battalion of the 
Fire Department of the City of New York, and 
it was to him, a “New York fireman,” that the 
“Third Alarm” was dedicated at the time of 
its first printing in 1893. A year later Chief 
Bresnan was killed at a fire; and, in view of 
his tragic death while in the performance of 
duty as well as of the distinguished services 
rendered by him to the department that he 
served and the city that he loved, it has seemed 
fitting that the dedication to this new edition 
of the book that he inspired should take the 
form of a brief memorial, setting forth, not 
only his eminent services, but also those traits 


X 


IN TROD UCTION . 


of character which made him loved and re- 
spected in life and sincerely mourned in death. 

There is, moreover, a deeper purpose in the 
preparation of this brief sketch of a worthy life 
than the mere commemoration of what one man 
has done in the line of duty, and that is to show 
that this man was really what the original ded- 
ication of the book said he was — “ a typical 
fireman ” — and that what he was other firemen 
may become also. For the qualities of courage, 
sobriety, loyalty, modesty, mental and physical 
alertness and a complete, unselfish and un- 
swerving devotion to duty which he possessed 
in the very highest degree, are to be found to 
a greater or lesser extent in every man who is 
drawn by natural sympathy into the profession 
of fire-extinguishment. And I will venture to 
say that there is not a fire company in any town 
in the land that cannot boast of at least one 
member who has in him the makings of a John 
Bresnan. 

Born in Ireland in the year 1841 of respect- 
able, hard-working parents, and brought to this 
country when only three years of age, John 
Bresnan grew up in the famous old Sixth ward 
in which are preserved to this day as much of 
the spirit of old-time New York as can be found 
in any part of the town. And if there be any- 


INTRODUCTION . 


xi 


thing characteristic of this old-time spirit, now, 
sadly enough, rapidly passing away, it is the 
love of fire-fighting ; and, in the old days of the 
volunteer department, the Sixth was a veritable 
hotbed of this fire feeling. Bresnan became 
imbued with it at a very early age and in his 
seventh year had constructed for himself a 
small fire engine which he used to drag to all 
fires. One of his boyhood friends well remem- 
bers him in those days, flying in the wake of 
the noisy fire companies with his little wooden 
engine at his heels, with the same swiftness and 
enthusiasm that characterized him up to the 
very last moments of his life. 

It is not easy for those who have grown up 
under newer conditions to comprehend the 
strong hold that the old volunteer fire depart- 
ment had on the New York of this by-gone day, 
and especially on its boys and young men, 
nearly every one of whom owed an allegiance 
— more or less shadowy — to some fire company. 
Indeed, among the small boys of the lower 
wards the question, “what engine do you run 
with?” was equivalent to a demand for social 
passports. 

Although more than forty years have passed 
since the introduction of the paid department, 
the old volunteers still keep up their organiza- 


xii 


INTRODUCTION . 


tion and are always sure of a popular ovation 
when they turn out at parades with their old 
fire hats, their trumpets and ancient “ ma- 
chines.” Harry Howard, the last of a long and 
honored line of volunteer fire chiefs, survived 
the organization nearly thirty years, and was, 
till the very last, a picturesque and well-known 
figure in these parades and a person of real 
distinction on the East side where seats were 
always reserved for him in the popular play- 
houses, and where he was personally known to 
the entire community. 

In his “ Recollections of a Player” the vet- 
eran actor, James H. Stoddart, had the good 
fortune to board with one of these old-time New 
York firemen, a certain James Smith who lived 
in Marion, now Lafayette street, and thus de- 
scribes his host : 

“I found him a charming person. He was 
a product of the times, not polished, but manly 
and good, a typical American of a class then 
common but now seldom seen — a Democratic 
politician, a contractor, a fireman, and, in fact, 

4 one of the boys/ He used to keep his fire- 
man's helmet hanging over his head while he 
slept and his boots close by so that he could 
jump into them at a moment's notice; and when 
he heard an alarm of fire, in three leaps he was 


IN TROD UCTION . 


xiii 


at the bottom of the stairs. He was never so 
much in his glory, as when running 4 wid de 
machine/ ” 

As may easily be imagined, the disbandment 
of the volunteers and the introduction of the 
paid fire department, awakened a storm of 
protest and resentment, not unlike that which 
marked the substitution of railways for the old- 
fashioned English stage coach lines. Some of 
the companies marked their disapproval by 
running their machines into the Harlem River, 
and it is safe to say that all agreed in predicting 
disaster for the new order of things. Yet the 
survivors of the old department — the men who 
used to sleep with boots and helmet beside them 
— realize now that the paid department has at- 
tained a degree of efficiency that would have 
been impossible in a volunteer service. 

John Bresnan was barely twenty when he 
joined the volunteers, but he had already had 
no small experience in fire-fighting as one of the 
many boys who “ran with” the old Leonard 
street hose company, afterward Engine Com- 
pany No. 31 of the present department. The Civil 
War broke out soon after his enrollment and for 
a few months he wore the uniform of a private 
soldier, but the love of fire-fighting was strong 
within his breast and as soon as he could obtain 


XVI 


INTRODUCTION. 


telligent mastery of the subject, in so impress- 
ing his views upon the fire commissioners and 
others in authority that his suggestions event- 
ually became laws. At his instigation, and un- 
der his guidance, the fire commissioners were 
taken to the different theatres and the defects 
of the buildings made apparent to them. He 
proved to them that a certain proportion of the 
roof over the stage should be of glass so that 
in the event of fire, if the skylight were not at 
once opened, the glass would crack with the 
heat and form a vent to allow the flame and 
smoke to escape harmlessly instead of filling the 
auditorium to the point of suffocation. He 
showed them also the necessity for the many 
details in structural arrangement of the stage 
and the auditorium, and explained the various 
means and appliances for safety. And it is 
owing to many of the arrangements and de- 
vices suggested by Chief Bresnan that theatre 
audiences enjoy better protection in New York 
than in any other city in this country. 

Bresnan was, in truth, not only a typical 
New York fireman, but the very highest ex- 
emplification of what a modern, scientific fire- 
fighter should be. He was born a fireman and 
was never anything else, for his whole soul was 
wrapped up in his work. 


IN TROD UCTION. 


xvii 


It has been said of him by Mr. Richard Wat- 
son Gilder who, as we shall see hereafter, had 
reason to know him and to put a proper value 
on the services that he rendered to the town, 
that “ he knew the botany of a fire ; he knew 
its seed and stalk and flower, the effects of dif- 
ferent methods of construction upon it.” 

All this Bresnan knew, but unlike many re- 
formers and pessimists and “ muck rakers ” 
he could not only detect a wrong but suggest 
or invent a remedy, and whenever he attacked 
an evil he attacked it scientifically and at its 
very root. Although denied the advantages of 
a liberal education, he possessed a mathematical 
mind by which he was able to estimate almost 
at a glance and with extraordinary accuracy 
the origin of a fire, the direction in which it 
was heading and the extent to which the flames 
had spread. And, once estimated, he was none 
the less quick in deciding where it should be 
attacked and in sending his men to the spot. 

His mind was, moreover, inventive to a very 
high degree and besides what he did quietly 
and unostentatiously for the protection of au- 
diences, he may be credited with an improved 
form of hose hoist for taking the hose over 
sharp projections; a revolving distributing 
nozzle, very valuable for fires in cellars, ship- 


INTRODUCTION . 


xviii 


holds, and other places where firemen cannot 
go because of the smoke; and two or three in- 
ventions which are now in general use. The 
quick-harnessing apparatus and the sliding 
pole originated in the West, but Bresnan’s quick 
appreciation of their merits and the insistence 
with which he urged their adoption by the New 
York fire department must be placed to his 
credit. To him speed was everything; a second 
gained in time, something of immeasurable im- 
portance, its loss a blunder almost as bad as a 
crime. By some he was regarded as excitable, 
but those who worked under him soon learned 
that his extraordinary physical vigor and ap- 
parent impulsiveness were due to the fact that 
his mind and body acted at almost the same 
instant, and that he could think and do without 
the loss of a fraction of a second. He believed 
in speed, not only in going to a fire but in re- 
turning, because he realized the importance of 
having his men, his horses and his apparatus 
all ready for response to a sudden call. 

I have said that Bresnan was a born fireman 
and nothing else, but I might have qualified this 
statement by explaining that he had certain 
well-defined tastes and interests of the kind that 
other men regard as pastimes but which in his 
case were invariably in the form of some legit- 


IN TROD UCTION. 


xix 


imate outgrowth of his calling. Above all 
things he loved the fire department, of course 
with the exception of the three motherless chil- 
dren who lived with him and over whom he 
watched with the solicitude that is well exem- 
plified by an anecdote related after his death by 
the man who had been for years his driver. 

“ Whenever an alarm came in from the dis- 
trict where his children lived the chief never 
waited for his wagon, and what’s more, I could 
never drive fast enough to catch up with him ; 
and, when the fire was over and I started to 
drive him home, he always turned to me and 
said, as if apologizing: 'Well, they ain’t got 
any mother, you know.’ ” 

After his children and the fire department, 
Bresnan loved the city in which he had grown 
up; and as a part of that city he took a deep 
interest in the literature descriptive of it, in its 
playhouses and players, in its old-time land- 
marks, its new and improved buildings and in 
its politics. The theatres having been a special 
study of his, he used to spend a good deal of 
his spare time in the different playhouses. He 
was seldom known to occupy a seat but was 
often to be found standing, either in the lobby 
or else in the wings, and always an attentive 
and appreciative listener. In this way he came 




* '• ' ^ • •• .*• 

i t4*l 





INTRODUCTION. 


xxi 


“ If I could have an entire audience of Bres- 
nans there is nothing that I could not accom- 
plish in play-writing/’ 

By which he meant that an audience made 
up entirely of those who had never become blase 
through worldliness and constant theatre-going, 
but had retained the naivete and simplicity of 
youth, still cherishing the illusion of the stage 
while learning to appreciate its art, would give 
to a dramatist the highest possible incentive, 
and to his work illimitable possibilities. 

Curiously enough, continual play-going, 
coupled with a close study of the machinery of 
the theatre, the make-up of the actors and the 
various tricks and devices of stagecraft, never 
seemed to rob the great fire chief of his illusions 
or to kill the sympathies excited within his 
breast by the mimic scene. A keen lover of 
comedy, he was perhaps even keener in his 
fondness for the emotional or moving drama, 
and, of all modern plays, Bronson Howard’s 
“ Shenandoah ” was nearest to his taste. There 
is a scene in this play in which a Confederate 
soldier is brought on the scene merely that he 
may utter a few words and then die. And this 
little bit of acting made such a deep impression 
on Bresnan that he could not bear to see it. I 
have known him to leave his place in the lobby 


xxii INTRODUCTION. 

at the approach of this pathetic moment be- 
cause, as he said : “ It kind of makes me fill 
up.” He would even stand in the wings talking 
to the actor who played the part until the latter 
made ready for his last agony when he would 
disappear through the stage door and remain 
until his watch told him that the scene was 
over, after which he would return and take up 
the conversation, satisfied that there would be 
no further strain on his sympathies. 

John Bresnan’s knowledge of the city of New 
York was greater and more thorough than that 
of any man that I have ever known. To drive 
\Vith him through the town, and especially 
through the East side or other of its older set- 
tled portions, was to receive at first hand an 
object-lesson in municipal history. Of course, 
he had the history of the old volunteer depart- 
ment as well as that of its successor at his 
finger's ends. And to know this history is to 
know a great deal of what has made the town 
lively, interesting and theatric during the past 
hundred years. And John Bresnan having 
absorbed these and other annals of the metrop- 
olis into his accurate, mathematical mind, could 
point out the scene of every crime, fire or sensa- 
tional happening that the town had ever known. 
He could recite the history of such crimes as 


INTRODUCTION . xxiii 

the Nathan murder or the killing of Bill Poole 
in his own racy speech and in a manner pecu- 
liarly his own that left those tragic happenings 
indelibly impressed upon the memory. He was, 
moreover, the most accurate as well as the most 
picturesque and interesting of historians. To 
him New York, its streets and alleys, its gangs, 
its poor, its millionaires, its parks and its tene- 
ments were sacred ground, and he held in un- 
mitigated contempt those superficial writers of 
unworthy fiction who made sad messes of facts 
and localities. 

“ Why do they let those fellows write those 
things ? ” he inquired pathetically after reading 
a story written by some incompetent who had 
built up a false reputation for his marvelous 
“ local color/’ He did not ask why they wrote 
“ those things,” but why they were permitted 
to write them, as if he assumed that they were 
irresponsible and therefore under restraint. 

On his days off he used to take long walks 
through the town, not as an idle stroller but in 
order to piece out his enormous fund of in- 
formation with additional odds and ends of a 
kind that might some time aid him practically 
in his work. Once while riding with him down 
Fifth avenue he amazed me by pointing out in 
the great houses that we passed the rooms in 


XXIV 


IN TROD UCTION 


which their owners and the members of their 
families slept. I did not at the time realize the 
value of this sort of knowledge or appreciate 
the keen interest in duty that prompted its ac- 
quisition, but a very short time afterwards it 
was all revealed to me. A fire broke out in the 
building occupied by a famous Catholic Brother- 
hood, and Bresnan, arriving ahead of his men, 
saw at once that the fire, which was in the base- 
ment, must be filling the sleeping rooms up- 
stairs with smoke. He darted upstairs to the 
room where two of the Brothers slept and was 
just in time to save one of them from suffoca- 
tion. It was learned afterwards that his little 
son went to school there and that he had long 
since carefully questioned the boy as to the 
locality of the sleeping rooms in order that he 
might be prepared for just such an emergency 
as that which finally occurred. 

It was a fortunate thing for the members of 
the Tenement House Commission of 1893 that 
Chief Bresnan was detailed to take them 
through the crowded portions of the town, 
show them how the building laws were evaded, 
make plain to them the fire danger to which 
the tenement dwellers were exposed and — most 
important of all — suggest sane remedies for 
whatsoever was wrong. Bresnan, who had 


IN TROD UCTION 


XXV 


long been thoroughly familiar with the entire 
subject, threw himself into the work of the com- 
mission with the same enthusiasm that had in- 
spired him when dealing with the safety of 
theatre audiences ; and led Mr. Gilder, Mr. Post 
and Dr. Edson up the narrow and dangerous 
tenement house stairs, just as in previous years 
he had led the fire commissioners up to the fly 
galleries over the theatre stages. In addition 
to this, he insisted upon taking them with him 
to fires in the congested district and giving 
them object-lessons of the awful danger that 
threatened whenever flames broke out. The 
consequence was that this commission set about 
its work of legislative reform, equipped with 
such a thorough knowledge of every phase of 
the subject in hand that nearly every one of its 
suggestions eventually became enrolled on the 
state statute books. 

A quality that Bresnan possessed in the 
highest degree, and one, too, that is essential 
in a great fireman, was judgment. He was 
always able to extinguish a fire with as little 
loss through fire and water as possible and he 
knew also the precise extent of his authority as 
chief in charge of a fire. When warned, as he 
frequently was, by some ignorant householder, 
not to trespass on private property, he would 


XXVI 


INTRODUCTION. 


respond: “Well, this property belongs to the 
New York fire department just now,” and 
would proceed to take charge of it without 
further delay. 

One one occasion he was summoned to the 
Manhattan Club, then situated at Fifteenth 
street and Fifth avenue, where he found that 
the fire had started in the flues and was eating 
its way through the beams and floor of the club 
parlor. 

“ Don’t touch that floor ! ” cried a club mem- 
ber, a well-known judge of the Supreme Court, 
as Bresnan raised his axe. “ It is a part of 
the deck of the old ‘ Constitution/ and we don’t 
propose to see it smashed into splinters.” 

“ The only constitution I know now is that of 
the New York fire department,” replied the 
chief testily as he pushed the judge aside and 
attacked the floor at the proper spot, which he 
had gauged so accurately that within a very 
few moments the flames were completely ex- 
tinguished, and with the very least loss. 

And it is pleasant to record the fact that 
after his death the Manhattan Club raised 
several thousand dollars for the fund contri- 
buted for the relief of his family. 

Promotion had not come easily to John 
Bresnan. He had been made chief of battalion 


INTRODUCTION. 


xxvii 


in 1880, and ever since then he had been hoping 
for the appointment of deputy chief of the de- 
partment — a position which would have mate- 
rially enlarged the scope of his activities and 
placed him a step nearer the goal of his honor- 
able ambitions — supreme command of the en- 
tire department, a place filled at that time by 
one of the best and most competent fireman 
New York has ever known, Chief Bonner. But 
it was not until the close of the year 1894 that 
circumstances conspired to place this well de- 
served prize in his hands. One bitter cold 
night in that year — the 28th of December, to 
be precise — Bresnan met one of his most in- 
timate friends and exclaimed as he saw him: 
“ I’ve got the greatest news in the world ! I’m 
going to be made deputy chief to-morrow 
morning ! ” 

His friend had already heard rumors of the 
appointment from another source, but, knowing 
also the uncertainty of all human things, did 
not dare to confirm the news lest he should 
raise hopes that could never be gratified. 
Meanwhile Bresnan, greatly elated at the 
thought that the ambition of his lifetime was 
about to be gratified, seated himself by the fire 
and remained in earnest conversation on de- 
partmental matters and certain advanced 


xxviii 


INTRODUCTION. 


methods of fire-fighting until the stroke of mid- 
night, when the sharp clang of the gong in one 
of the stations “ struck,” and with a quick : 
“ I’m off! ” he darted through the front door 
and in another moment was whirling on toward 
an early morning fire. Twenty minutes later, 
the blaze having been easily extinguished, he 
returned with his company to their quarters in 
Thirteenth street, only to be called out again, 
almost immediately, to a fire in a bakery in 
Eleventh street. From this they returned after 
two hours and a half of hard, dangerous, bit- 
terly cold work, for as the night advanced the 
cold grew more and more intense while the 
wind rose higher and higher. Bresnan and his 
men had scarcely changed their soaked and icy 
clothing when another alarm came, this time 
from a huge building running from Twenty- 
third to Twenty-fourth street, about one hun- 
dred and fifty feet west of Sixth avenue. They 
found that the fire had broken out on the fourth 
floor and was blazing so fiercely that they were 
driven back by the smoke and flames three 
times before they had it under control and felt 
safe in going up a floor higher. The building 
was used as a factory but the danger was 
very great as other adjacent buildings were 
threatened. 


IN TROD UCTION 


XXIX 


Chief Bresnan, with Engine Companies No. 
14 and No. 18, and Hook and Ladder Company 
No. 5, and a Company of the Insurance Patrol, 
the Chief in the fore-front, fighting every 
inch of their ground, forged their way to the 
Twenty-fourth street stairway of the interior 
of the building. They reached and gained a 
foothold on the fourth floor. Here with the 
Chief directing the operations of these com- 
panies, and with the aid of the firemen working 
with streams direct from windows looking in 
upon this floor, he succeeded in keeping in 
check such fire as existed there, and sensibly 
reducing it to the point where it was safe to 
leave it. 

His purpose was to gain the higher floors. 
The great body of fire yet menaced these, 
and he was anxious to make an attack 
there with direct streams at immediate range. 
Thus again he took his accustomed position at 
the head of his companies, making the same 
effort and tactics by which he had won his 
way through the interior of the building thus 
far to reach the upper floors. He kept a close 
eye on the stairs for a line of retreat for his 
men should any back draught or sudden and 
unexpected increase of flame, or other cause, 
compel their instant retreat. 


XXX 


IN TROD UCTION. 


All the companies were working sturdily, 
Bresnan calling to his men: “Come ahead, 14; 
we can make the stairs ! Look out for the line !” 
All resolutely pushed forward, when, without 
a moment's warning, a large water-tank on the 
roof of the building, resting on a girder and 
weakened by the fire beneath it, crashed 
through the roof into the sixth floor and fell to 
the fifth. In its fall it threw down heavy beams, 
dislodging them and a great quantity of iron 
gas pipe. 

Assistant Foreman Rooney, of Hook and 
Ladder Company No. 5, was instantly killed. 
The fall of this mass of matter buried Chief 
Bresnan beneath it. The men of the companies 
working on this floor had the narrowest escape, 
the concussion resulting from this great crash 
of matter literally throwing them down the 
stairway and causing serious injury to a num- 
ber of them. 

The efforts of his comrades to rescue Bres- 
nan, heroic as they were, were fruitless, and 
the lamented Chief Bresnan died in the per- 
formance of his duty. 

The two men perished at half past four in 
the morning, and at six the friend with whom 
the dead chief had passed the evening, exultant 
over the good fortune that was in store for him, 


INTRODUCTION. 


xxxi 


was awakened to hear the sad news. By eight 
o’clock, the tragic happening of the night had 
spread a gloom over that wide section of the 
town in which the Sixth battalion has its 
headquarters and in which Bresnan had been 
for years a well-known figure. Not in my 
memory has the death of any citizen of New 
York brought forth such abundant and sincere 
expressions of grief and regret or awakened 
such a widespread sense of personal bereave- 
ment. And, as is frequently the case with men 
of really high character and pure, unselfish 
motives, it was not until he was gone that we 
fully realized how great had been his modesty, 
how high his sense of duty, and how much he 
had deserved at the hands of the community 
whose lives and property he protected. 

At the battalion headquarters that morning 
I found nearly all of the survivors on duty, 
though two or three bore the marks of what 
they had gone through the night before. One 
of these took me upstairs and pointed reveren- 
tially to the two reports that Bresnan in pursu- 
ance of his regular custom had made of the 
two fires that he had attended that morning 
before going to the one that proved his last. 

“ The Chief wrote those,” said the fireman 
simply. 


xxxii 


IN TROD UCTION. 


I asked him how many lives he thought 
Bresnan had saved during his career, but he 
could give no estimate. 

“ It’s this way,” he said. “ The Chief had 
to make one of these reports after every fire 
and he never would write himself down as 
saving a life. Sometimes he’d give the name 
of a man at the foot of the ladder but he never 
would take the credit to himself. Somehow it 
seemed as if he couldn’t do it. I know he’s 
saved between twenty and thirty people since 
I came here and that’s ten years ago, but you’ll 
never find mention of one of them in his own 
reports.” 

The funeral of the two firemen was held at 
the Church of St. Francis Xavier in Fifteenth 
street, and was attended not only by firemen 
of every grade in the department, but also by 
citizens who represented literally every rank 
of metropolitan life. At a benefit given for the 
families of the two men a few weeks later, 
eighteen thousand dollars was raised and 
devoted to the support and education of the 
children of both. 


James L. Ford. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


Chapter I. 

* c T""\0 you see that boy sitting on the 
^ curbstone over the way ? Well, he's 
been there for the last half hour, and I'd just 
like to know what he’s up to. Run over, 
Charley, and ask him what he wants." 

It was John Trask, a chief of battalion in the 
New York Fire Department who addressed 
these words to his subordinate, Charley Wey- 
man, one pleasant afternoon in early spring, and 
the boy to whom he referred had been sitting 
for some time on the curbstone across the 
street from the hook and ladder company’s 
quarters, peering anxiously through the open 
door which afforded him a view of the hook 
and ladder truck, the horses quietly munching 
their hay, and, in the rear room, half a dozen 
firemen seated about a table talking, reading 
or playing checkers. 

The boy, who seemed to be about fifteen 
years of age, looked as if he had just reached 
town after a long and weary walk. His clothes 
were torn and travel-stained, and there was a 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


gaunt, hungry look in his face that spoke 
unmistakeably of want and privation. It was 
this look and the boy’s dejected attitude which 
had first attracted the chiet’s attention for he 
feared that he might be waiting for a chance to 
get into the building, and steal what he could 
lay his hands on. 

“There’s something queer about that kid,” 
he continued, half to himself, as he watched 
Weyman cross the street and enter into con- 
versation with him. “ Hulloa ! he’s bringing 
him over here ; he must want to see somebody,” 
and just then the fireman entered leading the 
boy with him. 

“He says he wants to see you, chief,” said 
Weyman. seating himself in an arm-chair while 
the boy stood with his hat in his hand waiting 
respectfully for the other to address him. 

“Well, my boy,” said the chief of battalion in 
a kindly voice, “ what can I do for you ?” 

“ Are you Mr. John Trask, chief of the bat- 
talion ?” inquired the boy. 

“ I am ” was the reply. 

“Well, did you ever have a man here in the 
company named Frank Decker ?” 

At the mention of this name a sudden silence 
fell upon the little group of men who were 
gathered about the table, newspapers were 



‘ “ Well my boy.” said the chief of battalion, “ what can I do 
for you? ” ’ 



THE THIRD ALARM. 


3 


laid aside, the talking ceased, and every eye 
was turned on the hungry looking, travel-stained 
boy who stood with his hat in his hand, looking 
the chief squarely in the face while he put the 
question. 

The chief paused a moment as he adjusted a 
pair of eye-glasses on his nose, and then 
answered in a voice that had something of a 
stern soldierly ring in it : “I knew Frank Decker 
well, and I wish there were more men on the 
earth like him. But what have you to do with 
Frank Decker ?” 

“ My name is Bruce Decker and Frank 
Decker was my father ” replied the boy, still 
looking the chief squarely in the eye and trying 
to speak steadily, but there was a little break in 
his voice as he mentioned his fathers name and 
a faint quiver in his lower lip as he finished. 
“Frank Decker’s boy!” exclaimed Weyman 
springing to his feet, “ Why I never knew he 
had a boy ! ” 

“Where do you come from, young man?” 
inquired Chief Trask, regarding him now with 
a new interest and shifting his position so as to 
get a clear view of the young lad’s face. 

“ I come from Oswego County way back in 
the state, where I’ve lived all my life. I got 
here early this morning and came here because 


4 


THE THIRD ALARM 


I had no other place to go to. I’ve never been 
in New York before, but father used to tell me 
about you and a friend of his named Mr. W ey- 
man and so I thought maybe you’d be willing 
to give me a lift, if only on his account/’ 

“ Upon my word I believe the boy is speak- 
ing the truth, “said Chief Trask he’s got 
Frank’s nose and eyes and his straight way of 
looking at you and — here just turn around a 
moment, my boy — yes, there it is, that little 
patch of gray on the back of his head that 
Frank used to tell us was the birth mark of 
every Decker that ever was born. Well young 
man — Bruce you say your name is ? I’m glad 
to see you, and what’s more I’ll be glad to help 
you, if you need help. Here, give me your 
hand and sit down beside me.” 

Bruce seated himself beside his new friend 
and then Weyman stepped over and whispered 
something in the chief’s ear. 

“Certainly ! ” exclaimed that official hastily,” 
come along with me, boy, and have something 
to eat ; it’s just about dinner time.” 

As the two lefr the truck house the others 
laid aside their newspapers and games and be- 
gan an eager discussion of the new arrival, 
whose father had been, until his death three 
months before, a member of the company. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


5 


“I heard once that he had a boy somewhere 
up the country,” said Tom Brophy, and I’ve no 
doubt this lad is just what he claims to be, the 
son of Frank Decker, because he resembles 
him in every particular, And if he is Frank’s 
son why we ought to see to it that he has a 
fair chance to get along here, and not turn him 
adrift — to make out as best he can. We’re not 
one of us rich, but we’re not so poor that we 
can't spare a dollar now and then for a son of 
one of the squarest and best men that the de- 
partment ever had.” 

Brophy’s words were received with a degree 
of enthusiasm and approval that showed plainly 
that he and his comrades were of one mind as 
to the course they should pursue in welcoming 
and looking after the son of their old friend, 
and until the return of the boy and Chief Trask, 
they sat talking over the days when Frank 
Decker was one of the quickest, bravest and 
most popular men in all the department. 

But before proceeding any further with our 
story, it will be necessary to turn back to the 
time about twelve years before the appearance 
of Bruce Decker at the door of the New York 
truck house, w T hen Frank Decker, a strong, 
hearty, active man of twenty-five, turned his 
back on the little village near Lake Ontario, 


6 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


where he had just buried his young wife, and, 
having placed his little boy in the care of some 
distant relatives, set out for the city in the hope 
of beginning anew a career which had been 
broken by financial misfortune and the loss of 
his wife. Through the influer*ce of an old 
friend he had obtained an appointment in the 
fire department, in which service he had dis- 
tinguished himself by his bravery, coolness and 
zeal, qualities which served to commend him to 
the notice of the chief officers of the department, 
and which would probably have won for him a 
place at the head of a battalion, had it not been 
for the awful catastrophe at the burning of the 
Gothic Hotel on Broadway. 

On this occasion Decker arrived, entered the 
hotel at the command of his chief, and ascended 
the staircase, in order to save some women who 
were supposed to be in one of the upper floors. 
That was the last seen of him, and late that 
night when the rest of his company had been 
relieved and were slowly making their way 
home, they spoke little of anything or anybody, 
save Frank Decker, who was among the missing 
and who had gone down before that awful 
sheet of flame that broke out and swept through 
the hotel about five minutes after he was seen 
to enter the building. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


7 


Half a dozen charred bodies were taken from 
the ruins the next day, but which one of them 
had once been Frank Decker no one could tell. 

And while the father had been at work in the 
fire department, the child whom he had left in 
the little village in the northern part of the 
State, had grown in health, strength and mind, 
and was now in his sixteenth year, an active, 
vigorous, straightforward youth, who inherited 
all his father’s daring and quickness, together 
with a willingness to learn and a decided taste 
for books, which had come to him direct from 
his mother. 

During his short life he had cherished but 
one ambition, which was to become a fireman, 
and most of the correspondence which he 
always maintained with his father, had been in 
regard to the workings of the New York de- 
partment, and particularly the battalion to 
which the elder belonged. Once a year the 
father had returned to his old home on the 
shore of the great fresh water lake to spend his 
short vacation with his boy, and during these 
visits it had been the habit of the two to take 
long walks and sails together, enjoying them- 
selves after their own fashion, the boy listening 
with flushed cheeks and bated breath, while his 
father described to him the life of excitement 


8 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


and danger which he led as a member of what 
he always called. “ the greatest fire department 
in the world.” 

From his father’s lips the boy had heard 
stories of the swift runs to fires, of thrilling mid- 
night rescues, of brave firemen plunging into 
solid sheets of smoke and flame, and so strong 
a hold had these stories taken on his mind that 
his desire to become a fireman himself had 
slowly grown within him, until it became the 
one fixed and cherished ambition of his life. 

So it happened, naturally enough, that at his 
father’s death he resolved to make his way to 
New York and ask John Trask, the chief of his 
father’s old battalion, to appoint him lo a place 
in the Department. 

We have described in an earlier part of this 
chapter the arrival of Bruce Decker, footsore 
and travel-stained at the truck house, and his 
reception at the hands of the chief and his sub- 
ordinates, and we left him going out for dinner 
under the guidance of his newly-made friend. 

When he returned from the restaurant where 
he had enjoyed a hearty meal and a long, con- 
fidential talk with the chief, he stopped by the 
stalls in which the horses were standing, stroked 
the nose of the big gray, and said, without an 
instant’s hesitation: “Well, Pete, old fellow, 



t( Well, Pete, old fellow, I’ve heard of you many a time. 

Page <9. 


is 








THE THIRD ALARM \ 


9 


I’ve heard of you many a time,” and the horse 
laid his muzzle on the boy’s shoulder and 
whinnied softly, as if he were returning the 
friendly greeting. The men noticed this and 
exchanged significant glances. 

“Just like his father,” said Weyman, in a low 
voice, “ do you remember how fond Frank used 
to be of those horses ? Why, he never came 
into the house without stopping to pet them.” 

“Well, nty little man, how would you like to 
become a fireman ? enquired Chief Trask, pleas- 
antly, as he seated himself in his arm-chair and 
prepared to light his pipe. But before Bruce 
could answer, the sharp ring of the alarm bell 
echoed through the building and startled every- 
one into sudden activity. 


Chapter II. 


M ANY a time had Frank Decker described, 
for the benefit of his boy, the rapidity 
with which his truck company would start for 
a fire at the stroke of the gong, but never had 
Bruce’s imagination conceived of anything like 
that which took place now before his astonished 
eyes. 

The electric current which sounded the alarm 
released the horses and the intelligent creatures 
sprang at once to their places beneath the har- 
ness that was suspended in midair from the 
ceiling .of the room. Five of the men were at 
their heads at the same instant, while Weyman 
climbed into the driver’s seat and took the 
reins in his hand and Brophy mounted behind 
and took his place at the steering apparatus. 
Two or three sharp clicks and the harness was 
adjusted, and then, while the rest of the com- 
pany climbed recklessly over the wheels to their 
places on the truck, the horses bounded into 
the street, turned sharply to the left and dashed 
away in full gallop. Bruce rushed to the door 
and looked after the flying truck. Fully two 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


ii 


blocks away he saw a man in fireman’s uniform 
driving a galloping horse attached to a single 
seated wagon in which was a brass gong which 
he rang vigorously. It was Chief Trask lead- 
ing the way to the fire. 

Bruce went back to the room at the rear of 
the now deserted building and seated himself 
in one of the arm-chairs. His face was flushed, 
and he was trembling with excitement. If he 
had ever longed for a fireman’s uniform he 
longed for it now, with an intensity such as 
he had never felt before, and he determined 
that no power on earth should prevent him 
entering the service and sustaining the reputa- 
tion for courage and fidelity which his father 
had enjoyed for so many years. 

That night Bruce Decker slept at the home 
of John Trask, and, while he was dreaming of 
fires and fire brigades and swift-moving horses, 
the chief and two or three of his men were 
gathered about a little round table at the rear 
of the truck house, discussing various schemes 
for giving the lad a start in the city. 

“I don’t know,” said Charles Weyman, “but 
what the best thing we can do for the lad is to 
get him a job in some big store or place of 
business where he can begin at the beginning 
and work his way up There’s nothing like 


12 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


business nowadays. Those big merchants 
make more money than any of the professional 
men do, when once they get a few thousand 
ahead, and anyway it’s a great deal better than 
this fire department business, which is all 
risk and danger and excitement, with very little 
money to compensate for it. You know that 
he is entitled to a pension of $300 a year from 
the department, and that amount, together with 
what he could make as an office boy or young 
clerk, ought to keep him going. I know if I’d 
gone into business when I was his age I would 
have made a good deal more money than I 
have by running to fires.” 

“ And yet you wouldn’t change now if you 
had the chance would you ?” said one of the 
men carelessly. 

“No, I don’t think I would — “ began Wey- 
man slowly, but Tom Brophy interrupted him 
with : 

“What you say is all perfectly true, Charley, 
but you must remember one thing, and that is, 
that this lad is crazy over the Fire Department 
and anxious to get into it because his father 
was in it. Can’t you see how much he’s been 
thinking about it all his life ? Did you notice 
how he recognized those horses and called them 
by name, just because his father had told him 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


13 


about them ? Its very plain to me that all he’s 
heard about the New York Fire Department 
has made a deep impression on him, and when 
a boy’s got his head set on any particular line 
of business, it’s very foolish to try and force 
him in any other direction. Let him have a try 
first at what inclination leads him to, and then if 
he finds out that it’s not all a path of roses, it 
will be time enough for him to make a change 
and get into something else.” 

“ But how are we going to get him started in 
the department yet awhile ?” demanded Wey- 
man. “ You know the rules are, that no one 
under twenty-one years of age can be taken 
into the service, and this boy don’t look to me 
to be more than fifteen. Get him into some 
good office now, and the chances are that by 
the time he’s twenty-one he won’t want to go 
to fires on a truck.” 

Then Chief Trask, who had been silent for 
some time, removed his pipe from his lips and 
said, in the authoritative way which was habit- 
ual with him: “If the boy wants to be a fireman 
I believe in giving him a chance. This pension 
of $300 a year ought to pay for his board and 
clothes and there are plenty of odd jobs he can 
do about the quarters while he’s learning the 
business. He can make himself very useful to 


14 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


us here if he takes hold of the work in the 
right spirit, and if he gets sick of it within a 
year he won’t be any the worse for his train- 
ing.” 

That ended the discussion and very soon 
afterward the men went up stairs and turned in 
for the night. 

The next morning the chief told Bruce that 
he had decided to give him employment for a 
few months in order that he might familiarize 
himself with the duties of a fireman. He could 
board at his (the chief’s) home, and make him- 
self generally useful at the quarters. “ Do 
you know anything about taking care of 
horses ? ” he required. 

“Yes,” replied Bruce eagerly, “I’ve looked 
after horses all my life and I’d like nothing bet- 
ter than to take care of that big grey Pete that 
I’ve heard my father speak about so often. I 
am very handy with horses, and I can do any- 
thing with them. Then I’ll run errands and do 
anything you want me to. I’d rather be a fire- 
man than President of the United States.” 

Mr. Trask could not help smiling at the boy’s 
earnestness, but it pleased him, nevertheless, 
to see that he was bent upon entering the ser- 
vice and did not intend to let a little hard work 
stand in the way of getting there. That very 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


*5 


afternoon found Bruce with his coat off* whist- 
ling merrily as he rubbed down the horses, 
Pete, Jack and Joe, and gave them their hay and 
oats. Charley Weyman watched him from his 
seat in the rear room, and remarked to Brophy : 
“ That lad takes hold of his work as if he liked 
it. 


Chapter III. 


<< IT ITCH up my wagon for me, Bruce,” 
li said the chief one morning a few days 
after the young boy had been installed at the 
quarters, and accordingly he harnessed one of 
the horses to the wagon which the chief kept 
for his own nse. 

“ Now jump in beside me,” he continued, and 
a few minutes later they were driving slowly up 
the broad avenue, while the chief gave his 
young protege some information regarding the 
department. 

“ Remember this, my boy,” he said earnestly, 
“ that promptness and readiness are the watch- 
words of the service. Every second of time is 
of importance, and you should never let another 
man get ahead of you when you are getting 
ready to go to a fire, nor allow another company 
to get a stream on the fire first, if you can pos- 
sibly prevent it. The paid department was es- 
tablished in 1865. I don’t know how long it 
took an engine or truck to get out into the 
street then, but I do know that we have been 
lowering the record ever since, so that now the 






Chief Trask explains the fire box to Brace.— 
Page 77. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


*7 


average time from the first stroke of the alarm 
until the engine, manned and ready for action, 
passes over the threshold is not more than ten 
seconds, and it has been done, of course only 
for exhibition purposes, in two seconds. Not a 
year goes by but sees some new invention or 
improvement to facilitate the work of the de- 
partment, and my own opinion is that the rivalry 
between the different companies is the strongest 
incentive to efficient work there is. Now 
I’ll stop here and explain this fire box to you, so 
that you will be able to understand how these 
alarms come in.” With these words, the chief 
drew up in front of a lamp-post which was 
painted a bright red and had red glass in its 
lamp. To this was attached the fire box from 
which any citizen could send an alarm of fire. 

“ Now,” said the chief as he opened the box, 
“ when a fire breaks out, anyone who discovers 
it runs to this box, or rather to the one nearest 
the scene of the conflagration, for you know 
these boxes are scattered all over the city, and 
turns this handle according to the printed di- 
rections. By pulling the hook down inside, the 
number of the box is telegraphed to the head- 
quarters of the fire department, and the oper- 
ator there sends another dispatch notifying the 
different engine houses in the immediate vicinity 


1 8 THE THIRD ALARM. 

of the fire. This alarm comes in to us in the 
shape of sharp strokes, indicating the number 
of the alarm box. This is what we call a first 
alarm, and you will notice that there is a gong 
here in the box which rings when the handle is 
turned. That gong attracts the attention of the 
policeman on duty nearby, and he comes run- 
ning up to find out where the fire is, or to 
arrest any person who may be ringing it 
maliciously. 

“ Once in a while the alarm is rung by some 
Irish servant girl who wants to send a letter 
back to the old country and mistakes this for a 
mail box. And once in a while it is rung by 
somebody who is deceived by a smoky chimney 
or a bonfire in a vacant lot. The other alarms 
intended to call out a greater force, can only be 
sent by an official, who has a key to the inside 
box. For example, suppose our company were 
to be called out to-night to a fire, and I were to 
find on arrival that it was in my own district, I 
would take command, even if another battalion 
chief were to be present also. In the same way 
he would take command, if the fire were in his 
district. But, suppose I find that the fire is a 
big one and in danger of spreading. I go to 
the box and sound the second alarm, which 
brings up an additional force. Then, suppose 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


19 


that I find the fire making such headway that 
we are unable to control it. Then I go to the 
box again and sound the third alarm, and that 
brings up every available engine and hook and 
ladder company within a reasonable distance. 
When that third alarm sounds in an engine 
house, every fireman knows that there’s a big 
and dangerous fire to be fought, and every man 
goes out with a keener sense of his own re- 
sponsibility than he would on an ordinary call.” 

“ How often does the third alarm sound? ” 
asked Bruce, who had been listening with in- 
tense interest to the chief s words. 

“ It’s not very often that we have a fire big 
enough to warrant it,” replied the official. 
“The last one we had was at an apartment 
house up town, about four months ago — ” 

He paused abruptly, remembering that it 
was at this fire that Frank Decker, the boy’s 
father, had perished. And although Bruce said 
nothing, he knew what he meant. 

Entering the wagon again, they drove a few 
blocks further and stopped in front of an engine 
house situated on a side street. A fireman, 
standing on the pavement in front of the door, 
saluted as the chief entered. 

“Is Captain Murphy about?” asked the 
chief. 


20 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“Yes,” replied the other, and then a tall, 
stoutly built man, with a military look and 
manner that corresponded well with his uniform, 
made his appearance from the rear room and 
bade his visitors welcome. 

This is Frank Decker’s boy,” said the chief, 
as he presented Bruce to the officer, “and 
we’re going to try and make a fireman of him. 
I’ve brought him around here to show him what 
a fire engine is like.” 

“ Frank Decker’s boy ! ” exclaimed the cap- 
tain, as he shook Bruce cordially by the hand. 

“Well, all I can say is, you’ve got good 
material to work with. I knew Frank this 
twelve years or more, and a better fireman 
never rode on a tender.” 

“You see,” said the chief, as he led the boy 
through the engine house, “this is a double 
company. That is to say, there’s an engine 
and tender here to go out at the first alarm, and 
another to move up and take their places, so as 
to be ready in case an alarm comes in while 
the first company is off at the fire. Of course 
this engine that stands right here in front by 
the door is the one to go first, and its tender, 
or hose wagon as it used to be called in old 
times, goes with it. Then they move the 
second engine and tender right up to the front ; 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


21 


the second relay of horses drop down and take 
their places in the other stalls, and within two 
minutes after the alarm was first sounded, there 
is a complete equipment ready to go out to any 
other fires that may occur in the vicinity. 

“Now I want you to notice the way this 
engine is kept ready for action at a second’s 
notice. You see from the guage that there is 
twenty pounds pressure of steam in her boiler 
now, although there is no fire lit, and she has 
been standing here all day. That is because 
the steam is kept up from a fire in the base- 
ment, and the connection is made by these 
pipes that come up through the floor. The 
minute the engine starts, the connection with 
the pipes underneath is shut off automatically, 
and then as soon as the wheels cross the thres- 
hold of the building, the fire is lit, and as the 
swift motion of the street acts as a sort of 
draught, there is a big blaze going in less than 
two minutes. There’s a little contrivance I 
want you to see, and although it may seem like 
a trivial one to you, it is really a very useful 
time-saving device.” 

As he said this, he took from a rack above 
the ash pan a pine stick about six inches long, 
around one end of which was wrapped a quan- 
tity of rags soaked in kerosene, from the midst 


22 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


of which protruded the heads of half a dozen 
matches. 

“Now I’ll explain to you,” continued Chief 
Trask, “the value of this little torch. If we 
depended on matches, or took our chances of 
running to get a light from the gas-jet or any- 
thing like that, we would certainly lose time, and 
might have to stop on the way to the fire and 
beg a light. We can’t afford to take any such 
chances as that. The engineer just grabs this 
torch and scratches it. The first bit of flame 
lights up the oil-soaked rags, and then he throws 
the whole thing into the fire box which is filled 
with pine shavings also soaked in oil, and there’s 
the fire started. Then while he’s traveling 
through the streets, he throws in whatever 
wood and coal are necessary and so he gets all 
the blaze that’s needed before he has gone half 
a dozen blocks. Then you see that wrench 
hanging there beside the torch. Just before 
the engine gets to the hydrant they want to 
stop at, the engineer grabs that wrench, jumps 
off and runs ahead so as to have the hydrant 
open by the time the engine comes along. 
They attach the hydrant connection and then 
the tender comes up and passes them, leaving 
one end of the hose, and drives on until they 
have let out as many lengths as they 'want to use.” 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


23 


All this is done without any waste of time, for 
as I said to you before, there are no spare sec- 
onds in the New York fire service. Now come 
up stairs with me and I’ll show you the sleeping 
quarters, which are somewhat similar to those 
around at our own place, except that they have 
three brass sliding poles instead of one, as we 
have. When the men are in bed, they have 
what they call a turnout on the floor beside 
them. Here is the turnout.” He pointed, as 
he spoke, to a pair of trousers attached to a 
pair of rubber boots and so placed that they 
could be drawn on instantly. 

“ There’s a gong here, too, you see, as well as 
down stairs, and when the alarm rings, the fire- 
man jumps out of bed and, you might say, right 
into his turnout, pulls the trousers up and runs 
for the sliding pole, and there’s a race every 
time to see who will get down first. The driver 
and engineer always sleep next to the poles so 
that they can get down ahead of the others. 
Down stairs there are two men on duty all the 
time at night. When the alarm sounds and the 
horses run to their places, these men must be 
at their heads to snap their collars and hitch the 
reins to their bits. The driver jumps into his 
seat, and the instant he sees that the harness 
is on all right, and that he has the number of 


24 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


the box from which the alarm has come, he 
starts away as fast as he can go. He doesn’t 
wait to find out whether the engineer is there, 
or whether the other men have slid down the 
pole and are in their places — that’s their busi- 
ness, not his. He has just one idea, and that 
is to get out into the street as soon as he can, 
and get to the fire before any other engine. 
The captain of the company rides on the ash- 
pan behind the engineer. His lieutenant rides 
with the driver of the tender, and the other 
men ride on the tender. 

Just at this moment the gong rang sharply, 
and the horses, released from their stalls by the 
same electric current, sprang to their places in 
front of engine and hose carriage, and then a 
moment later trotted quietly back again. 

“That’s twelve o’clock that’s just sounded,” 
exclaimed Chief Trask, “and the horses always 
jump into their places every time the gong 
sounds. It wouldn’t do to leave it to their 
judgment whether they should turn out or not, 
and besides, frequent alarms keep them from 
getting rusty. If they only turned out when 
there was a regular alarm, they would stay here 
sometimes two to three days at a time and that 
wouldn’t be good for men or horses either. 
It’s only by constant practice that we can be 


THE THIRD ALARM 


25 


kept always on the alert. You know that at 
sea they often ring a false fire alarm, just for 
the sake of keeping the ship’s fire brigade in 
practice. Now Captain Murphy will show you 
the tender, or hose wagon as they used to call it.” 

Accordingly the captain showed Bruce the 
two great coils of hose, and the different nozzles 
fitted for different emergencies, and he told him 
how the hook and ladder truck served at a fire 
very much in the same capacity as the sapper 
and miner corps in the army. 

“ The hook and ladder company carries the 
picks and axes, scaling ladders, net and all that 
sort of thing, while all we do is to turn a stream 
of water on and put the fire out. There’s a 
good deal of competition between the different 
companies and there’s nothing we hate more 
than to get to a fire and find that another com- 
pany has got its stream on first. A few years 
ago, when the Duke of Sutherland was here, 
the fire commissioners determined to show him 
what the New York department could do in 
the way of getting to a fire in quick time. You 
see, the Duke used to belong to the London 
brigade, and has been what we call a ‘ fire crank ’ 
all his life. They came down to this engine 
house one night, and when they went away we 
knew that the chances were that we’d be called 


26 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


out before long. As they went up the street 
I heard the commissioner say to the Duke 
‘We’ll go over to Twelfth street and Fifth ave- 
nue and ring the alarm there.’ So I determined 
to have my men all ready so that at the very first 
stroke of the gong we could get out without 
waiting to get the number of the station. I 
made up my mind that I wasn’t going to be 
beaten by any other company that night, so I 
had everything ready with the driver in his seat, 
and before the gong had struck twice, we were 
off. And we made such time getting over 
there, that we came up to where the party 
was standing and found the Duke with his 
hands still on the alarm box. You never saw 
a man more astonished in your life than he 
was.” 

On their way back the chief again impressed 
upon the boy’s mind the enormous value of 
time. “It is necessary,” he said, “first of all, 
to have everything in apple-pie order and 
ready to start at a moment’s notice. Then 
when the alarm comes we must be ready and 
able to go without a second’s delay. Each man 
has his own place to fill and if a man neglects 
to snap a horse’s collar or the engineer fails to 
get to his place on the ash-pan in time, the chief 
of the battalion knows whom to blame.” 


Chapter IV. 


NE bright afternoon in May, Bruce found 



' himself riding beside the chief up Fifth 
avenue, and as they rode the elder pointed 
out to him the principal public buildings, gave 
brief histories of some of the well known land- 
marks and explained how the great fortunes 
had been rolled up which enabled some men to 
live in Fifth avenue palaces with practically 
unlimited incomes. 

Bruce wondered how it was that his guide 
should happen to know so much about the 
fashionable part of the city, even more in fact 
than he seemed to know about the poorer 
quarters. It may have been that Chief Trask 
saw what was uppermost in the boy’s mind, for 
he said, as if in answer to a question, “ I have 
to know about every part of the city, and it is 
particularly valuable for me to keep the run of 
what we call the brown stone district. The 
men who live here own property all over the 
city — factories, apartment houses, tenement 
houses and private dwellings — besides what 
they live in themselves. If there is ever a riot 


27 


28 


THE THIRD ALARM \ 


in the city, and I hope there will never be 
another one, the mob will make a rush for 
Fifth avenue. There are the Vanderbilt 
houses, those big brown buildings opposite the 
Cathedral. If fire were to consume them it 
would be a loss to the whole city, because 
they’ve got pictures and statues and books in 
them that could never be replaced. And my 
idea is that in time those valuable things will 
find their way into the Metropolitan Museum 
or some other public institution where they will 
be safe from fire and thieves, and can be seen 
by everybody/' 

Do they often have fires in these big brown 
stone houses ?” asked Bruce. 

“Not very often,” replied Mr. Trask, “but 
they have them sometimes in the hotels and 
fashionable apartment houses, and perfect 
death traps some of those places are. There 
was one fire in a dwelling-house not long ago 
that came near proving fatal, and would have 
if it hadn’t been for our hook and ladder com- 
pany getting there in time. It wasn’t much of 
a fire either, just what you might call a little 
blaze and a good deal of smoke in the third 
story, but it came near costing a lady her life 
all the same.” 

“ How was that?” inquired the boy eagerly. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


29 


“Well” said the Chief “it happened this 
way. The alarm came in one afternoon and of 
course we got right out. Probably if the alarm 
had told us that it was nothing but a little blaze 
in an upper room, we wouldn’t have thought 
so much about getting there quickly, but 
luckily for all concerned, we got away just as 
quick as possible, and when we turned the 
corner into the street the first thing we saw 
was a big crowd of people dancing around and 
shouting to a lady who was sitting on a little 
narrow ledge right under the third story win- 
dow of her house. The' smoke was pouring 
out of the window just over her head, and she 
had to sit there crouched down so as to keep 
from being suffocated. Some of the people 
were crying but most of them were hollering to 
her, and most of those who were hollering 
were telling her to jump. She knew too much 
for them though, and just sat there as cool and 
patient as you please, waiting for us to come 
along and save her. As soon as we could get 
some of the people out of the way we had a 
ladder put up against the house and Charley 
Weyman started up it. As his foot touched 
the lower rung I saw that the woman was 
beginning to sway. The excitement and the 
smoke and all had been too much for her. 


3 ° 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


Charley made the best time he could to the top 
of the ladder, and caught her just as she top- 
pled over. At that moment the window cur- 
tains took fire and swung out over her head in 
a blaze. I really think if we had been four 
seconds later than we were she would have 
lost her grip and fallen headlong to the street." 

“ Did Mr. Weyman carry her down the lad- 
der in his arms ?” inquired Bruce excitedly. 

He carried her down about half-way and 
then she suddenly braced up, got out of his 
grasp, and came down the rest of the way her- 
self. It was one of the narrowest escapes I 
have ever seen. And the lesson that it teaches 
a fireman is to be always ready for any emer- 
gency, and always on time to the half second. 
Seconds are like weeks in fighting fire.” 

For a few moments the two rode along in 
silence, and then the chief said “ I'm going to 
take you up to headquarters to-day to give you 
an idea of how the telegraphic part of the ser- 
vice is conducted. The building we are going 
to is one of the most important in the whole 
city, and it would be a terrible thing for prop- 
erty owners if it were to be suddenly de- 
stroyed.” As he said this he turned off into 
67th street, and very soon drew up in front of 
what looked like an engine house with four or 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


3 1 


five extra stories added to it. Leaving the 
horse in a covered court-yard beside the tall 
building, they made their way to the upper 
floor in which was the elaborate, costly and 
ingenious telegraphic apparatus employed ex- 
clusively by the fire depatment. 

As they entered, a telegraphic operator arose 
from his desk and came forward to greet them. 
Chief Trask shook him by the hand, and told 
him that he had brought the boy up there in 
order to begin his education in the duties of a 
fireman. 

‘‘That’s good” replied the operator, “and 
it’s a good thing to begin here for this is what 
you might call the heart of the whole system. 
If this part were to stop working, all the rest of 
it would be paralyzed.” 

While he was speaking, the tick of a tele- 
graph instrument was heard, and the operator 
immediately turned away. 

“That’s an alarm from box 323,” said the 
chief in a low voice, for he had listened to the 
ticking too. “Now you’ll see him send a dis- 
patch to the companies which are to go out. 
He sends two dispatches. One to ring the lit- 
tle gong in each engine house, and the other, 
which acts as a check on the first, to ring on 
the big gong. The first he sends by means of 


3 2 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


a switch and the second by that machine over 
there in a glass case. That one acts auto- 
matically.” 

By this time the operator, having notified 
the different companies situated in the vicinity 
of the fire, returned and expressed his wil- 
lingness to explain the whole system to the 
young boy. For fully half an hour they re- 
mained in the operating room where Bruce 
saw the careful and systematic manner in which 
every fire is recorded — they average about ten 
a day — while by means of a peculiar apparatus 
on the wall the operator can tell exactly what 
engine companies are out on duty, and what 
ones are in their quarters ready to respond to 
an alarm. In this way he knows what to do in 
the event of two fires in the same vicinity. 

As they were taking their leave Chief Trask 
stopped in a large room fitted up with various 
gymnastic appliances : “This,” he said, “is the 
gymnasium used by the men who wish positions 
in the department. They come here and prac- 
tice, and then when the Board sits to determine 
on their application they show what they can 
do on the rings, the horizontal bar and the lad- 
der, the same as if they were giving an exhibi- 
tion at an athletic club. My idea has always 
been ” he continued, as they walked down 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


33 


stairs “ to have a special training school the 
same as they have for the Navy, in which 
boys can be taught to become firemen. Our 
great trouble is that the men don’t begin this 
exercising and gymnastics until they’re of age, 
and it’s very hard for them to acquire activity 
and quickness. I think boys could be brought 
up with special reference to entering the fire 
department, and taught to do all sorts of tricks 
such as climbing ladders and making high 
jumps.” 

“Oh ! I was always good at climbing and 
things like that,” responded Bruce, “and up 
in the country there wasn’t a boy anywhere 
around who could go up a walnut tree quicker 
than I could, or who dared go as far out on a 
branch as I would. You’ll find me all right 
in that part of the business as soon as you 
give me a show.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” rejoined the chief, 
“and it won’t be long before I’ll give you a 
chance to see what you can do.” 

His few words had a wonderful effect on 
Bruce Decker. He had not yet dared to 
whisper to the chief the hope which he had 
cherished that he would soon be allowed to go 
out on the truck and assist in putting out a 
fire, and now it seemed to him that the moment 


34 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


was at hand when he was to have his long 
sought for chance to distinguish himself. He 
was in a merry mood that night as he bedded 
down the horses and washed the Chief s 
wagon. How soon would he become a mem- 
ber of the department ? How soon would he 
rise to become Chief of a Battalion ? 


Chapter V. 


NE morning Bruce Decker stood leaning 



on the chain stretched across the en- 
trance to the quarters, wondering how soon he 
would be allowed to go to fires with the men. 
Ever since his arrival in New York it had been 
his highest ambition to climb up on the truck 
when the alarm sounded, and be off to the 
scene of action. But much as he desired to 
bear his share in the work of the company, he 
had never dared broach the subject to his 
superiors. To begin with, the rigid discipline 
of the department and the unhesitating, unques- 
tioning way in which the men obeyed the orders 
of their superiors, had made a deep impression 
on the young country boy, and besides, he was 
eager to have them all believe that he was a 
sober, cool-headed, trustworthy person rather 
than a flighty boy, carried away with the idea 
of an exciting and adventurous fireman’s life. 

The company went out on an average about 
twice a day, and while the men were away 
Bruce remained in the quarters, sometimes 
engaged in some light work about the place, 


$6 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


and sometimes reading or studying. He was 
always on hand to help bed down the horses 
on their return, and to find out from the men 
where the fire had been. Sometimes the com- 
pany returned in less than an hour, sometimes 
they were gone more than two hours, and once 
they had remained out all night, while Bruce 
sat by the open door wondering fearfully what 
had become of them. 

To-day, as he stood leaning on the iron chain, 
he determined to ask from the chief permission 
to go out at the next alarm, and he had just 
reached this conclusion when his thoughts were 
interrupted by the familiar voice of his superior. 

“ Bruce,” said the chief, “I want you to take 
this letter up to Mr. Dewsnap on Madison 
avenue, and get an answer to it. Be sure 
you see him, and if he is not at home, wait till 
he does come in.” 

Glad of an excuse to get out into the streets, 
for it was a pleasant warm day, Bruce bent his 
steps towards the address indicated on the 
envelope which he carried in his hand. A man 
servant answered his ring and ushered him into 
the large and rather gloomy library, in which 
sat Mr. Peter Dewsnap, one of the eccentric 
characters of New York, and a particular friend 
of Chief Trask’s. Mr. Dewsnap was a short 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


37 


and rather stout gentleman, with bright, clear 
eyes, snow-white whiskers and a decidedly 
jovial aspect. He smiled pleasantly as he 
took the letter, and then asked the boy to sit 
down, remarking at the same time, “You’re 
not one of the chief’s sons are you ? ” 

“No, sir,” replied Bruce, rather proudly, 
“I’m a member of his company.” 

“ A member of the fire company ! ” exclaimed 
Mr. Dewsnap, “Well, you must have joined 
very lately, and in fact I didn’t know that there 
were any lads as young as you in the whole 
department.” 

“ I’ve only been there a very short time, sir,” 
replied the boy, respectfully, “but my father 
was a member of this company until his death, 
about four months ago.” 

“ You don’t mean to say that you are a son 
of Frank Decker, who was killed at that big 
apartment house fire?” cried Mr. Dewsnap, 
and then added, as he scanned the boy’s face 
more carefully, “ yes, the same eyes and the 
same square look in them. I knew your father 
very well, young man, and I’m glad to see you. 
Did you never hear your father speak of me ? ” 
And just then a sudden remembrance of 
what his father had told him lit up the boy’s 
mind, and he exclaimed hastily, and without 


3 8 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


thinking of what he was saying : “ Why, you’re 
not the gentleman they used to call the old fire 
crank, are you ? ” 

He stopped suddenly, as soon as the words 
were out of his mouth, realizing that he had 
addressed the old gentleman in a too familiar 
way. But the latter did not seem to be 
offended. On the contrary, he threw himself 
back in his chair, uttering roars of laughter and 
slapping his knees with his hand : “ That’s what 
I am, and that’s just what your father used to 
call me,” he cried, “I’m an old fire crank, and 
have been ever since I was your age, and that’s 
fifty years ago. There was no paid department 
then, with all its new fangled inventions for 
getting out in less than no time, but we had a 
volunteer department, and I belonged to it. 
You boys of the present generation can’t form 
any idea of what New York was like when I 
was your age. You’ve not been in the city 
long, have you?” 

“ No, sir, replied Bruce simply, “ I was 
brought up in the country, and never saw New 
York until a fortnight ago.” 

I thought I saw some of the country tan on 
your face,” rejoined the old gentleman. “ Well, 
you see how thick the houses are around here 
on Madison avenue near Fortieth street, this is 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


39 


about where I used to pick blackberries when 
I was a lad. The city was a good ways off 
then, and they used to ring a big bell when 
there was a fire. Some of the best men in the 
town were firemen, and some of the toughest 
citizens as well. They had nothing but hand 
engines then, but there was just as sharp a race 
to get to the fire and get a stream on in those 
days as there is to-day. And many’s the fight 
I’ve seen between the rival companies. They 
used to call us toughs and rowdies, but there 
wasn’t so much of that after the Fire Zouaves 
were recruited and sent to the front in the early 
days of the war. They showed then, that their 
experience in fignting had taught them some- 
thing that was of some use to their country, and 
there were no such soldiers, either on our side 
or with the Confederates, as the boys in the red 
trousers and gaiters that went South with 
Ellsworth and Duryea. However, I can talk 
all night when I get started on that subject. 
Some afternoon I’ll have Chief Trask bring you 
up here and I’ll show you some old souvenirs 
of the volunteer department that I’ve got, and 
tell you some stories of Big Six and the Black 
Joke, and half a dozen more of the famous old- 
time organizations. Since I retired from busi- 
ness ten years ago, I’ve become more of a fire 


40 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


crank, as they call it, than I was before the war. 
By the way, if the chief is down at the quarters 
now, I’ll step down and see him.” 

“He was there when I left,” said Bruce, 
“and told me to bring him an answer to his 
letter.” 

“ Very well, you can bring me down there as 
an answer,” said the jolly old gentleman, as he 
put on his hat, took his gold-headed cane from 
behind the door and ushered his young guest 
into the hall with punctilious, old-fashioned 
courtesy. They walked together down the 
broad avenue, Mr. Dewsnap pausing occa- 
sionally to point out to his young companion 
some building of historic interest, or the scene 
of some great conflagration. They had just 
reached the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and Mr. Dew- 
snap was telling Bruce about the circus which 
used to occupy the present site of the house, 
when a sharp clang of a gong fell upon their 
ears, and they saw Captain Murphy’s steam 
engine thundering along Twenty-third street, 
while Chief Trask in his wagon came up Broad- 
way at full gallop, closely followed by the hook 
and ladder truck, with Charlie Weyman in the 
driver’s seat, Brophy at the tiller, and the men, 
some of whom were still struggling with their 
coats, clinging to the truck as best they could. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


4i 


In an instant the old gentleman’s face changed, 
and his eyes seemed to blaze with excitement. 

“ Come with me !”he exclaimed, as he darted 
after the flying vehicles. Up Broadway he 
went, with Bruce in swift pursuit, then turning 
into Twenty-fifth street, he followed on to Sixth 
avenue, arriving just as Captain Murphy had 
his hose attached to the hydrant and was ready 
to throw a stream wherever it might be needed. 
A crowd had collected in front of a building 
from whose upper window a volume of smoke 
issued. Chief Trask was standing on the side- 
walk giving order to his men, and just as they 
appeared on the scene, one of the men from 
the engine company entered the hallway with 
a nozzle of the hose in his hand and disap- 
peared upstairs, while a ladder from the truck 
was placed against the side of the building, and 
a fireman ran hastily up to see that there wc~e 
no people imprisoned in the upper story. 

But the fire proved a very slight one, and 
within a very few minutes the smoke had 
ceased to issue from the upper window, the 
hose had been replaced in the tender and the 
long ladder on the truck. And it was just at 
this moment that Chief Trask recognized Mr. 
Dewsnap and came forward, holding out his 
hand and saying : “I just sent a note up to 


42 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


your house, and you’ll probably find it there 
when you get back. If I’d known we were to 
get a call from this box, I wouldn’t have sent it, 
but would have taken my chances of seeing 
you here. You very seldom miss a fire that’s 
anywhere within your radius.” 

I got your note, and was just going down 
with that boy of yours to see you, when we 
met you coming up,” rejoined the old gentle- 
man, “ and so we concluded we’d follow you 
along and take in the fire, too. I’m very much 
obliged to you for your kind offer, and you may 
expect to see me with those gentlemen within 
a few days. I’ve told them both about the way 
we do things in the New York department, but 
I don’t think they believe it. Now I want to 
prove it to them, because I am getting rather 
tired of the way some of these foreigners pre- 
tend to look down on us Americans.” 

“Very well,” rejoined Chief Trask, “bring 
them down any time you feel like it, and you’ll 
find us ready. You needn’t take the trouble 
to notify me when you’re coming, except that 
I’d like to be there myself. If my men don’t 
get the truck out into the street in ten seconds, 
I want to know the reason why every time.” 

“I want you to come up and call on me 
some afternoon,” said Mr. Dewsnap to Bruce, 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


43 


as the boy turned to go back with the men on the 
truck. “ I’ve got a number of books relating 
to the fire department and some curiosities that 
ought to interest a boy of your age and inclina- 
tions. You’ll find me at home any afternoon 
between two and four, and I’m sure Chief 
Trask will give you permission to come.” 

Then, with a pleasant smile and nod, the 
old gentleman climbed into the chief ’s wagon, 
while Bruce scrambled up over the wheel of 
the big truck and rolled slowly back to quarters. 


Chapter VI. 


B RUCE had always been fond of reading 
since his earliest childhood, and it was his 
habit, when not otherwise employed, to spend 
most of his time seated in the back room of the 
quarters reading whatever books or news- 
papers he could find there. These books and 
newspapers were contributed by different well- 
disposed people who, having more reading 
matter than they required, remembered the 
firemen, and distributed them along the dif- 
ferent engine houses in the town. One morn- 
ing, while the boy was engaged in this manner, 
a tall, well-built and military looking gentleman, 
who seemed to be fully seventy years of age, 
entered the quarters and inquired for the chief. 

‘‘He’s upstairs, sir, but I’ll call him down,” 
said Bruce, promptly rising and offering the 
old gentleman a chair. Then he went upstairs 
and a moment later the chief came down 
and quickly recognized in his visitor an acquaint- 
ance known as Mr. Samuel Dexter, who lived in 
an old-fashidned house in the northern part of 
the city. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


45 


Mr. Dexter told him that he had called 
simply to gratify his curiosity in regard to the 
fire department, and after the chief had shown 
him the different sorts of apparatus kept there, 
and explained the method of getting out 
quickly, his visitor asked him what they did for 
reading matter. 

“Well, we are dependent on our friends for 
that/’ replied the chief, “there are a number of 
people who send us books and papers from 
time to time, and without them, I can assure 
you that the hours would hang pretty heavily 
on our hands.” 

“Why, I have a lot of books and magazines 
in my garret that I shall never have any use for,” 
exclaimed Mr. Dexter, “ and if you could send 
up for them some day, I would be very glad to 
let you have them.” Chief Trask thanked 
him for his offer and turning to Bruce who 
stood by, directed him to drive up there in one 
of his wagons the next morning and get the 
periodicals. 

The next day accordingly, Bruce started in 
the chief’s wagon and drove slowly up Lexing- 
ton avenue, then turning to the right and cross- 
ing the Harlem river he found himself in an 
entirely strange part of the city. There were 
not many houses to be seen, and down near 


4 6 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


the water were great stretches of open fields 
and in some places heaps of lumber and enor- 
mous bins of coal. Continuing in a northerly 
direction he soon found the quiet avenue on 
which Mr. Dexter lived, and then he entered a 
wide gate and drove along a short roadway 
leading to a big, square, gloomy looking stone 
house, completely hidden from the street by a 
dense hedge and some thick clusters of fir trees. 

He knew from the description that had been 
given him that he had found the right place, 
and somehow, the house, the big hedge and 
the front doorway seemed strangely familiar to 
him. It seemed to him that some time in the 
remote past he had either been there before or 
else dreamt of just such a place, only the pic- 
ture that had remained faintly outlined in his 
mind was of a house and hedge and trees that 
were fully five times as tall as those which 
he now saw before him. And then it seemed 
to him that the old picture which had lingered, 
though forgotten, in his mind for so many years 
contained also another door in the same house, 
a side door that was smaller and shaded by 
vines that clambered about a wooden porch. 
He had alighted from the wagon by this time 
and, impelled by curiosity, he tied his horse to 
a post in which was set a great rusty iron ring, 




“ For fully a minute Bruce stood looking at the house.” 

Page 47. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


47 


and then walked around the house to see if 
his dream or memory whatever it might be, 
would prove true. 

Yes, there was the old doorway with the 
clematis clambering about it, just as his fancy 
had painted it, except that the door seemed 
smaller, and the clinging vines less luxuriant 
than in his dream. For fully a minute Bruce 
stood looking at the house and wondering 
when he could have seen it before, or whether 
it was simply an accidental freak of his imagina- 
tion that made the scene seem so familiar to 
him. 

He was still looking and wondering when 
the door opened and Mr. Dexter himself 
appeared on the doorsill. 

“Come in young man,” he said, “you’ve 
come up for those old books and magazines I 
suppose.” 

“Yes sir,” replied the boy, taking off his hat 
respectfully. “ Chief Trask sent me up for them 
with the wagon. Following the old gentleman, 
he entered a dark hallway, in one corner of 
which stood a heap of novels, books of travel, 
magazines and other publications, which had 
been brought down that morning from the gar- 
ret. The boy’s eyes glistened as he looked at 
the big heap, and thought of the pleasure that 


48 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


he would have In going through them, dur- 
ing his next leisure hours. Aided by one of 
Mr. Dexter’s servants, he placed them in the 
wagon, and then, having thanked the old gen- 
tleman for his kindness, he drove slowly down 
the winding roadway, and thence through the 
gate into the street. He stopped a moment to 
look at the landscape that lay stretched before 
him, hoping that he might see in it some object 
that, like the old front porch would recall some 
childish memory, but there was nothing that 
was in any way familiar to him, and he drove 
away shaking his head and very much puzzled 
by what he had seen. He was. still thinking over 
the events of the day and wondering whether 
he had ever seen Mr. Dexter before, for his 
face too had a familiar look and somehow 
seemed to be perfectly in accord with the old 
stone house and the big, solemn hedge that hid 
it from the road, when his attention was 
attracted by a voice that seemed to come almost 
from under the carriage wheels. 

“ I say, can’t you give me a lift? I’ve hurt 
my ankle,” was what he heard, as he hastily 
pulled up his horse and there, seated on a big 
rock, by the roadside, was a young boy, ap- 
parently not more than fifteen years of age, 
whose handsome clothes were torn and dust- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


49 


covered, and whose face was deathly pale. 
Bruce alighted at once from the wagon and 
asked him what the matter was. 

“I was just on my way home/’ replied the 
boy, “and I tried to make a running jump over 
those rocks, when I slipped and fell, now it hurts 
me to touch my foot to the ground, and my left 
ankle hurts me awfully. Can’t you take me 
home in your wagon ? My father will pay you 
for your trouble.” 

“ Certainly, I’ll give you a lift,” replied Bruce, 
“but your father needn’t pay me anything 
for it ; just stand up beside me and I’ll lift 
you in.” 

With a little trouble, he placed the boy in 
the seat and then climbed in himself and sat 
down beside him. The two lads were not slow 
in making one another’s acquaintance. The 
injured boy said that his name was Harry Van 
Kuren and he pointed out his father’s house, a 
large handsome residence surrounded by well 
kept grounds. He was fifteen years old, he 
said, and did not go to school, but had a pri- 
vate tutor who lived in the house with him, 
and nearly always accompanied him when he 
went out to walk or ride. 

“ And how do you happen to be here ? ” in- 
quired young Van Kuren. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


5 ° 

Then Bruce told him of his errand to Mr. 
Dexter’s and showed him the pile of books 
and magazines which he was taking back for 
the firemen to read. 

“ But you don’t mean to say that you belong 
to the fire department, do you ? ” exclaimed 
Harry excitedly. 

“Yes, I’ve been on the force pretty near 
three months,” answered Bruce proudly. 

“My, but you’re a lucky chap,” cried his 
companion. “ I just wish my father would let 
me join, but he won’t let me do anything I 
want to. I never have any fun anyway ; there’s 
nothing to do in this stupid old place, except to 
go riding on my pony, and once in a while 
have a sail on the Sound. There are no other 
boys for me to play with — that is, none that I 
like — and I have to go in the house every night 
at six and stay there till bedtime. I suppose 
you have all the fun in the world getting up in 
the middle of the night and going to fires, and 
driving like mad through the streets. Say, 
why can’t you let me go out with you some 
time. 

But Bruce shook his head dubiously, he was 
willing to have the boy imagine that he himself 
was one of the leading members of the company, 
and he wished moreover to impress him with 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


5i 


the idea that it was no easy matter for a young 
boy to become a member of the New York Fire 
Department. “I’m afraid,” he said, “that 
you’d find it very difficult to get an appointment. 
I believe I’m the youngest member of the whole 
department, and I know I never would have 
been taken on, if it hadn’t been on account of 
my father, who was a fireman before me.” 

“ And is your father on the department 
yet ? ” demanded Harry. 

“No,” replied Bruce with a little choking 
sound in his voice, “he was killed at a fire 
some months ago and then they gave me a 
position on account of him.” 

“ Your father was killed at a fire ? Oh I’m 
awfully sorry!” exclaimed Harry! “who was 
an impulsive and warm-hearted, although some- 
what spoiled boy, “ but I’m going to tell my 
father about you, and ask him if you can’t come 
up and visit me some time. Here’s our en- 
trance ; just drive me down to the side door will 
you please, and I’ll get one of the servants to 
help me up stairs.” 

Bruce helped his new friend to alight and 
then a man servant appeared in answer to his 
ring, and on learning that his young master was 
hurt, started off in much alarm in quest of the 
private tutor, but was called back imperiously 


52 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


by young Master Harry and ordered to “lend 
a hand” in getting him into the house. 

As Bruce turned to leave, the boy held out 
his hand in a frank, straightforward way that 
was very agreeable and said, “ I’m very much 
obliged to you for bringing me home, and now 
that I’ve got your address I’m going to write 
and ask you to come up and see me. My father 
will be mad enough when he comes home and 
finds what’s happened to me, because he told 
me I wasn’t to go off the grounds to-day. But 
he’ll come around all right in a week then we’ll 
have fun together.” 

And as Bruce drove out of the handsome 
grounds of Mr. Van Kuren’s house, he felt that 
it had been a well spent and eventful day for 
him. He felt sure that he had made a friend 
in young Van Kuren, and then he fell to think- 
ing of Mr. Dexter and his big stone house and 
his familiar looking porch and the little side 
door with its clinging vines, and he wondered 
for the hundredth time under what circum- 
stances he could have seen them before. 


Chapter VII. 


ITH the possible exception of John Trask, 



V V it is doubtful if Bruce had a better friend 
in the whole company than Charley Weyman, 
who drove the truck and was looked upon 
as one of the nerviest and most active fire- 
men in the battalion. Weyman had been 
Frank Decker’s most intimate friend, and the 
natural interest which he took in the son was 
deepened by the readiness shown by the latter 
to oblige his new friend and to help him in 
every possible way in the discharge of his duty. 

It was not unnatural then that Bruce should 
decide to repeat to Weyman his strange exper- 
iences at Mr. Dexter’s house, and accordingly 
one afternoon, a few days subsequent to his 
visit, he said to the fireman, just as they had 
seated themselves for a quiet game of checkers : 
“ There was a funny thing happened to me the 
other day when I went after those books, and 
I’d like to know if you could give me any 
explanation of it.” 

“ Well, what was the funny thing ? ” inquired 
the other, as he moved one of his men in the 
direction of the king row. 


S3 


54 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“ Well, you know Chief Trask sent me up to 
Mr. Dexter’s house to get a lot of books and 
magazines. I don’t suppose you were ever up 
there, were you ? ” 

“ No, can’t say that I ever was, but it’s your 
move,” rejoined Weyman.” 

“ It’s a great big house,” went on Bruce, as 
he moved one of his men so carelessly that his 
opponent instantly took it, “ in fact it’s one of the 
finest houses I was ever in. There’s a big, thick 
hedge that separates it from the street, and 
when you get inside the hedge there’s a road- 
way that winds through a big, thick clump of 
firs and pines, right up to the front door of the 
house. The minute I came inside the gate the 
place took on a familiar look and I was positive 
that some time or other I’d been there before. 
When I stopped in front of the door, that looked 
familiar too, and then I seemed to remember 
that there was another door on the other side 
of the house that was smaller and had a 
little porch over it, so as to shade the 
doorstep. Just to see if I was right or not, 
I got out and walked around the house 
and there, sure enough, was the side door, 
just as I had either dreamt it or remembered 
it some time ever so many years ago ; only 
it seemed to me that in reality the place 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


55 


was only about one quarter as big as I had 
imagined it.” 

By this time Weyman had become so much 
interested in the boy’s narrative that he had 
ceased entirely to think of the game and was 
now gazing at Bruce in the intense manner of 
one who is hearing some startling piece of news 
in which he has a strong personal interest. 

“You say that you remember the place and 
yet you were never there before ? ” demanded 
the fireman. 

“Yes,” answered the boy, “and moreover I 
don’t think that I could have seen a picture of 
it, for the smell of the flowers and of the vines 
over the porch was just as familiar to my nos- 
trils as the doorway was to my eyes. I don’t 
think I could ever have been there before, and 
it seemed to me as if I had dreamt of the place, 
not once, but a great many times.” 

For a moment or two Charles Weyman was 
silent, then he pushed away the checkerboard 
and said : “ What you’ve just told me, Bruce, is 
very curious and seems to confirm an idea that 
came to me long ago when your father was 
alive. Do you know anything about your father 
or his relations ? ” 

Bruce thought a minute, and then answered : 
“No, I never knew he had any relations. I was 


56 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


brought up by some old people who lived in the 
country on the shore of Lake Ontario and only 
saw my father once a year. Then he never 
used to talk to me about anything except the 
fire company, and it was that that made me 
crazy to join the service. If he had any broth- 
ers or sisters or cousins he never mentioned 
them to me, and to tell the truth this is the first 
time in my life that I ever thought about the 
subject.” 

“ But didn’t your mother have any relations 
who are living now? ” inquired Weyman. 

“Not that I ever heard of. She died when I 
was very young and I can scarcely remember 
her. Since then I lived with those old people, 
who took care of me, but after my father died, 
I determined to strike out for myself and so I 
came down to New York.” 

“Well, if I were you,” said Weyman, “I 
would write home to someone in the country 
who knew your father, and make some in- 
quiries about his family. In fact, I should think 
you’d like to know who you are. There was 
always something mysterious about your father 
— something that I never could understand. 
He was a man of much better education than 
any of the rest of us, and I remember once or 
twice seeing well dressed gentlemen, evidently 


THE THIRD ALARM 


57 


men of high position, stop in the streets to 
shake hands and talk with him. On such 
occasions he never offered any explanation 
except to ask me not to speak of it to the other 
men. Well as I knew him, I never knew posi- 
tively that he had a child living, and I was 
more surprised than any man in the company 
when you turned up that afternoon and told us 
you were Frank Decker s son.” 

“ But,” exclaimed Bruce, who, of course, had 
become very much interested in his companion’s 
words, “ didn’t you ever hear him say anything 
or mention any name that could serve as a sort 
of clue to his origin ? If I had anything to 
work on, I might follow it up and perhaps find 
out who his relations were. However, perhaps 
it would not be worth the trouble, for they 
might not be particularly glad to have a poor 
boy like me, who hasn’t a cent in the world, 
turn up and claim connection with them. I think 
I am just about as well off here as I would be 
with any of my kin.” 

“There are one or two things about your 
father that come to my mind now,” said Wey- 
man, after a moment’s reflection, “ and although 
I gave them no thought at the time, still they 
might be of some use to you. There was a 
man who came around to see him once in a 


5 « 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


while, and when he came the two always went 
out and walked up and down the street, talking 
together. Sometimes they got excited, and I 
noticed that your father was never the same 
after one of these visits. He would sit in a 
corner, moody and sullen, sometimes talking 
to himself, and it would take him a couple of 
days to get back to his old frame of mind again. 
He was naturally a light-hearted, jovial fellow, 
and that’s why I couldn’t help noticing the 
effect these visits had on him.” 

“ What sort of a looking man was he, who 
called on him, and always seemed to upset him 
so ? ” asked the boy. 

“He was tall and dark and well-dressed, and 
I’d know him anywhere by a scar he had on his 
face that was partly hidden by a stiff black beard 
he always wore. The last time he was here 
was the day before the big fire at which your 
father was killed. I remember it well, because 
that morning before the first alarm came in 
Frank hardly spoke to me, but sat over there 
in that corner, smoking his pipe and looking as 
if he had lost the last friend he had on earth.” 

“ And you don’t know who that dark man 
was or what name he gave ? ” said the boy. 

Weyman shook his head slowly. “No,” he 
said, “ I did know his name once, but it passed 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


59 


out of my mind. If I were you, I would write 
a letter up to the country and see if I couldn’t 
find out something in the way of a clue.” 

Just at this moment Chief Trask came in and 
told Bruce to hitch up the wagon and go with 
him up to headquarters, and so the conversation 
came to an end. But all that day the young 
boy was very thoughtful, and when night came 
he had determined to set to work, quietly and 
persistently, to find out something about his 
father and his mother, and to learn if he had 
any kindred living in the world. He had no 
clues to follow except the legend of the dark 
man with the scar on his face, and the re- 
semblance of Philip Dexter’s house to some- 
thing of which he had once dreamt and still 
had a vague recollection. 


Chapter VIII. 


F OR fully a fortnight after his strange experi- 
ence in the upper part of the city, Bruce 
heard nothing from Harry Van Kuren, the boy 
whom he had picked up by the roadside and 
conveyed home. He had hoped, at first, that 
their chance acquaintance might develop into a 
permanent friendship, for since his arrival in the 
city he had associated entirely with the men in 
the fire company and, boy like, he was beginning 
to pine for the companionship of lads of his own 
age. Two or three times he had thought of 
writing a note to Harry to ask him how his foot 
was getting along, but he had hesitated, for fear 
he should be looked upon as endeavoring to in- 
trude upon a boy whose condition in life was, 
he could not help feeling, very much better than 
his own. So Bruce, who was an independent, 
self-respecting lad, determined to let the other 
make the first advance, if he desired to continue 
the acquaintance. 

One morning, however, about a fortnight 
after the first meeting of the two bovs, Bruce 
was surprised and delighted to see Harry march 


60 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


61 

into the quarters and come straight up to where 
he was sitting. 

“ I suppose you thought I was never coming 
down here to see you,” said the visitor as he 
shook Bruce heartily by the hand, “ but the fact 
is when my father got home that night and 
found that I had been out without his leave, he 
put me on bounds for two weeks and said if he 
caught me going out without permission he 
would lock me up in the house. I was going 
to write to you, but writing is an awful 
bother, so I thought I’d wait until I got off the 
limit and then come down here and make you a 
call.” 

Bruce was heartily glad to see his visitor, 
and frankly told him so, mentioning also the 
fact that he had almost given up hope of hear- 
ing from him again. 

Oh I never forget my friends,” said Harry 
“and here’s a letter from my father inviting 
you come up and spend the afternoon with 
us to-day.” 

With these words he produced from the 
inside pocket of his jacket a polite and formal 
letter addressed to Bruce Decker, Esq., and 
signed “ Horace Van Kuren,” in which the 
writer hoped that Mr. Decker would honor 
him with his company at dinner that evening, in 


62 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


order that he might thank him for the kindness 
shown to his son some time before. 

Bruce felt staggered at the idea of dining in 
that great, beautiful house, and at first did not 
know what reply to make ; then he bethought 
him of Charley Weyman and accordingly went 
up stairs and submitted the letter to him. 
The latter read it carefully and then said : “ You 
had better go by all means, it’s a good chance 
for you to get acquainted with those people and 
they can’t do you any harm.” 

“ But ” said the boy in a diffident, hesitating 
way, “ I’m almost afraid to go up there because 
I haven’t got any clothes nice enough. This 
is the best suit I’ve got, and that boy Harry is 
togged out in beautiful things, and I feel 
ashamed to go along with him, because of 
the contrast between us. 

“ Nonsense ! he wasn’t ashamed to ride in 
the chiefs wagon the other day, was he?” 

“Why no,” replied the boy, “I never 
thought of it then, and I don’t think he did 
either. Anyway he didn’t say anything about 
it, and now he’s come down to see me, and 
his father has asked me up to visit them. 

“You’d better go with him,” said the fire- 
man, “ and my opinion is that they’ll take you 
just as you are. Anyway, you can tell by the 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


63 


way they treat you, particularly by the way 
this boy treats you, whether they are the right 
sort of people or not.” 

Bruce accordingly went to Chief Trask, showed 
him the letter, and asked his permission to go 
with the boy, and having received it — and it was 
granted all the more willingly because he was 
always obedient and industrious himself, and 
seldom asked any favors, — he carefully washed 
his hands and face, brushed his clothes and 
shoes and made ready to start. 

Meantime Harry had been examining every- 
thing in the building with much interest, and 
he now called to the other boy to explain to 
him how the alarms came in, and how the men 
got off to the fire when they heard the gong. 
All this was now an old story to the young fire 
boy who had so familiarized himself with every 
detail that he was able to give his new friend a 
complete and graphic description of the work- 
ings of the system. 

Harry wanted to stay until an alarm was 
sent in so that he might see the company start, 
but when he found that it might be necessary 
to wait two days for a fire to occur in their 
district he gave the plan up, and they started 
off together. Bruce was relieved to see that 
in spite of his fine clothes, and generally stylish 


64 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


appearance young Van Kuren treated him 
with as much courtesy as it is possible for one 
boy to show to another and, so far from mak- 
ing any remarks about their difference in dress, 
did not seem to notice what sort of a coat his 
companion wore. As a matter of fact, Harry 
did notice the coat with its rather shabby 
sleeves and a good many other little things, for 
he was a quick-witted observant boy, but he 
was too well bred to make any remarks on the 
subject. Indeed it would be hard to find any- 
where a boy of better breeding than this 
spoiled, willful, impulsive child of luxury, who 
was always getting into trouble of one sort or 
another, was always doing thoughtless and 
foolish things, and yet was liked by every one 
who knew him. When he noticed Bruce’s 
coat, it suggested to him, not the idea of mak- 
ing fun of it, but the wish that he could get him 
another without hurting his feelings. 

Both boys were in high spirits as they 
trudged along, the one because he had at last 
found a companion of his own age, the other 
because he saw a chance to mingle on familiar 
terms with the men of the fire department, and 
perhaps to even ride to a fire on the truck with 
the rest of the company. The New York boy 
of to-day knows no higher ambition than to 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


65 


join the fire department and ride to fires 
on the swift rolling- engine, and Harry Van 
Kuren was a New York boy through and 
through. 

“Watch me scare that Dutchman!” he 
cried as they drew near a basement beer 
saloon, at the door of which a corpulent Ger- 
man was peacefully dozing. A pile of kegs 
stood on the top of a short flight of steps, and 
with a warning cry of “ Look out Dutchy !” 
Harry toppled the heap over and then seizing 
his comrade by the hand ran for dear life. 
The saloon keeper pursued them for a few 
yards and then gave up the chase, while Harry 
much elated by his exploit looked around 
for some other victim for his practical humor. 

Bruce, accustomed as he was to the rigid 
discipline maintained by Chief Trask, was 
horrified at his companion’s idea of sport, and 
was glad enough when they reached the 
elevated station without any further adventures. 

A little girl not more than thirteen years old, 
was standing by the front gate of Mr. Van 
Kuren’s house when the two boys entered ; 
she had blue eyes, a profusion of light hair, 
which she wore in a single braid down her 
back, and was altogether extremely pretty and 
attractive. 


66 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“You’ll catch it when you get into the 
house,” she remarked to Harry, with a know- 
ing wag of her head. 

“What for?” he demanded. 

“For going off without letting Mr. Reed 
know.” 

“ Oh, bother ! ” said the boy, “ I forgot all 
about him. He’s my tutor, you see,” he 
added, turning to Bruce, “and this is my sister 
Laura.” 

Bruce took off his cap and bowed politely to 
the young girl, and she held out her hand and 
said, without any apparent reserve or shyness, 
“ I saw you the other day when you brought 
Harry home ; why didn’t you drive up in your 
wagon to-day ? it must be fun to be a firemen ; 
I wish you’d tell me all about it. Harry, you’d 
better go in the house and see Mr. Reed right 
off ; he’s hopping mad, and if he don’t get over 
it before papa comes back, you’ll be locked up 
for another fortnight. Harry is always getting 
locked up,” she continued, turning to the vis- 
itor, who was listening with considerable sur- 
prise to this frank conversation between the 
brother and sister. 

Harry disappeared into the house, saying 
that he would be out as soon as he had 
“ squared himself with the professor,” and 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


67 


Laura took Bruce off to show him the stable 
where her pony was, and the barns and sheds 
in which were kept cows, pigs, dogs, and even 
a pair of goats. 


Chapter IX. 


HE Van Kuren mansion and grounds con- 



1 stituted one of the finest places in the 
upper part of New York, and to Bruce, accus- 
tomed to plain ways of living, it seemed 
almost like some enchanted palace in fairyland. 
For fully an hour he strolled about the grounds 
under the guidance of Miss Laura Van Kuren, 
who talked to him as freely and frankly as if 
she had known him all her life. Harry was in 
disgrace, she said, for going off without con- 
sulting his tutor, and he would probably be 
kept in the house until he had learned and re- 
cited the lesson which had been given him that 
morning. Meantime she would entertain his 
guest herself, and as she was very pretty, very 
bright, and altogether very friendly and charm- 
ing, Bruce did not feel the absence of her 
brother to any great extent. In fact, he was 
mean enough to hope in his secret heart that 
Mr. Reed would keep him in the house all the 
rest of the afternoon so that he and Laura 
might continue their confidential talk as they 
walked about together. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


69 


And as they talked, Bruce, who was natur- 
ally a diffident boy, became emboldened to 
such a degree that he made up his mind to ask 
the young girl if she knew anything about Mr. 
Dexter and the big, old fashioned house, which 
had seemed familiar ground to her. The op- 
portunity for putting the question soon came. 
They were sitting together in a small summer 
house, eating some strawberries which they 
had picked in the garden, taking advantage of 
a moment when the gardener was off in an- 
other part of the grounds. 

“ Did you ever know a Mr. Dexter, who 
lives near here ? ” inquired Bruce, during a 
pause in the conversation. 

The girl looked up quickly as she said, 
“You don’t mean that old gentleman who lives 
over there about half a mile along the road, do 
you ? ” 

“Yes, he lives in a big square stone house,” 
said the boy. 

Laura cast a hasty and apprehensive glance 
around her, and then said in lowered tones, as 
if she feared that some one were listening, “I 
know who he is, but papa won’t let us go near 
his house. Papa says that he’s a bad man and 
he won’t have anything to do with him, but I 
think he’s real nice, and one day, about a year 


70 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


ago, I was out walking near there, and he saw 
me and called me in and gave me some big 
bunches of splendid grapes, and then he asked 
me my name, and when I told him he seemed 
surprised, and somehow he wasn’t nice any 
more, and in a minute or two he told me that I 
had better run home or my people would be 
anxious about me. When I got home I told 
papa about it, and he was awfully angry, and 
said that I must never go into that yard again, 
and that if I saw Mr. Dexter coming I must run 
away. I asked him why, and he wouldn’t tell 
me. But where did you ever hear of him ? ” 

Bruce hesitated a few minutes before reply- 
ing, and then made answer, “The chief of our 
battalion, Mr. Trask, sent me up there the 
other day on an errand.” 

“And did you go inside the grounds and 
into the house?” demanded Laura, excitedly. 
“ Do tell me all about it, for it is such a roman- 
tic looking place that I always feel as if there 
were some mysterious story connected with it. 
And then that old Mr. Dexter never goes out 
anywhere, and nobody seems to know anything 
about him. My nurse, the one who lived with 
us for twenty-five years, told me once that Mr. 
Dexter and papa used to be great friends, but 
they had some kind of a quarrel. I asked her 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


7i 


what they quarreled about and she wouldn’t 
tell me, although I am sure she knows all 
about it.” 

The young girl’s words of course made a 
deep impression on Bruce, who was now more 
curious than ever to learn the history of the 
kindly old gentleman who lived all by himself 
in the big, square stone house behind the thick 
hedge. 

“ Go on and tell me all about what you saw 
there,” said Laura eagerly. “lam sure there’s 
some mystery about the place like the ones we 
read about in the story books. When I 
was a little bit of a girl, I used to imagine 
ihere was a sleeping beauty hidden away be- 
hind those dark trees and I expected that 
some day a prince would come and wake 
her up and that then there’d be a grand 
party for everybody around here to go 
to.” 

“Well, there is a mystery about it, and it’s 
one I’d like very much to solve,” said Bruce 
quietly. 

“ A mystery ! ” exclaimed Laura, “Now you 
must tell me everything about it before you 
leave this summer-house,” and she spoke in the 
tones of a young girl who expected to have her 
own way. 


72 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“I don't know whether I ought to say any- 
thing to you about it or not,” began the boy in 
a doubtful voice, “ and besides you might not be 
interested in the mystery because after all it 
only concerns myself.” 

“ Go right on and tell me this very minute ! ” 
cried the girl imperiously. 

“You’ll promise never to tell as long as you 
live and breathe ? ” 

“ Hope to die, if I do,” rejoined Laura fer- 
vently, “ Now, go on.” 

Thus adjured, Bruce told her the story of his 
visit to Mr. Dexter’s house and the strangely 
familiar look that the place had worn ; and he 
told her, too, of the conversation that he had 
had with Charley Weyman and of the advice 
that the latter had given him. Laura listened 
to his words with the deepest attention, and 
when he had finished, she drew a long breath 
and said “that’s the most interesting, romantic 
thing I ever heard about in all my life. And 
you don’t really know who your folks are ? 
Why you might be almost anybody in the world, 
and may be you’re the prince who will come 
and waken up the princess with a kiss, the 
same as in the story book. But how are you 
going to work to hnd out what it all means ? 
You must tell me everything you do about it 





Bruce tells Laura the story of his visit to Mr. Dexter’s house.- 

Page /2c 































THE THIRD ALARM. 


73 


for I’ll never be able to sleep at night until 
you’re restored to your rights.” 

Bruce, who was of a rather practical turn of 
mind, was amused at the excitement of his 
more imaginative companion. Up to this mo- 
ment he had simply felt a curiosity to learn why 
it was that the Dexter homestead seemed 
familiar to him, and it had never occurred to 
him that he had any particular “rights” to be 
restored to him, or that any grave question 
depended on the fancied resemblance of the 
place to the one pictured in his memory. 

“ I would like very much to learn something 
about Mr. Dexter and his old house, but I 
don’t know how to go about it. I always lived 
in the country, and, outside the men in our fire 
company, I have no friends or even acquaint- 
ances in New York. You have lived here all 
your life, and everything seems natural to you, 
but you’ve no idea what a big, lonely, desolate 
place this city is to a boy like me who comes 
here as a stranger. 

“I’ll tell you what,” exclaimed Laura sud- 
denly, “when my papa comes home to-night— 
you know you’re going to stay to dinner with 
us — you ask him about Mr. Dexter but don t 
tell him that you said a word to me about it. 
Maybe he’ll tell you something that will be of 


74 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


some use to you, but don’t say a word to him 
about what you told me about your visit there. 
We must keep that for our own secret, and I 
shall be mad if you tell him or Harry or any- 
body else, and if I get mad I won’t help you 
to find out the mystery of it. Now, you must 
do just what I tell you or else I won’t like you 
any more.” 

“What secret are you talking about?” de- 
manded some one close beside them in a voice 
so loud that both Laura and Bruce started in 
surprise from their seats. It was Harry who 
had just been released by his tutor and had 
been, according to his own account, hunting 
them all over the grounds. 

Laura put her finger on her lips and threw a 
significant glance at Bruce, and so it happened 
that Harry learned nothing of what they had 
been talking about for fully half an hour. 

At six o’clock, Mr. Van Kuren reached home. 
He shook hands with Bruce and told him he 
was glad to see him and thanked him for his 
kindness to Harry. 

Bruce noticed that both children appeared 
to stand in wholesome awe of their parent, 
obeying him with the utmost alacrity and con- 
versing only in low tones while he was present. 
This was not surprising to the young visitor, 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


75 


for Mr. Van Kuren impressed him as a stern, 
silent, self-contained man, who might be very 
severe if he chose to. But his face was not un- 
kind, and in the few remarks that he addressed 
to his guest he showed a certain interest in his 
welfare and a desire to make him feel as much 
at home as it was possible for a shy, country 
boy, unaccustomed to the ways of society, to 
feel in a splendid house like the one in which 
he found himself now. But all idea of asking 
him about the Dexter mansion left his mind, 
and although he found himself alone with him 
for a few moments before dinner was an- 
nounced, he simply did not dare to broach the 
subject that was uppermost in his mind. 

The dinner to which he sat down seemed to 
Bruce a very grand affair. It was served in a 
large, square room, wainscoated in dark wood 
and furnished in a rich, simple and tasteful 
fashion. The round table was covered with a 
white damask cloth of beautiful texture and 
the glass and silver seemed to have been 
polished with wonderful care. Colored wax 
candles with silk shades shed a soft light. 
Besides Mr. Van Kuren and his two children 
there were two other persons in the company ; 
Mr. Reed, the tutor, a tall, grave young man 
who talked but little, and seemed to watch 


76 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


Harry with much care, and a delicate, nervous 
lady, a sister of Mr. Van Kuren’s, whom the 
children called Aunt Emma, and who retired 
to her apartment as soon as the cloth was 
removed. 

For such a fine dinner it seemed to Bruce 
that every thing moved very easily and quietly. 
There were two men in black coats and white 
ties who went about noiselessly serving the 
guests and removing the dishes. Mr. Van 
Kuren, Miss Van Kuren and Mr. Reed drank 
wine, but there were no glasses at either 
Harry’s or Laura’s plate. Mr. Van Kuren 
asked Bruce if he would like a little claret, and 
he declined. He began to explain why he did 
not wish any, but stopped suddenly, feeling 
perhaps that he was saying too much, 
but Mr. Van Kuren helped him out with 
a kindly, smiling inquiry, and he went on : 
“Chief Trask of my battalion advised me 
not to drink anything, because he told me 
that when it was known of a young fireman 
that he did not take a drop of anything it 
was a great aid to him and helped him to get 
along.” 

“Very good indeed,” said Mr. Van Kuren 
approvingly, ”at any rate you’re too young 
now to need it.” 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


77 


At first, the young visitor was not quite sure 
of himself and did not know exactly what to do 
with all the forks that he found beside his plate, 
but by carefully watching his host he managed 
to acquit himself with credit, and when they 
arose from the table he realized that he had not 
made one single “bad break” as Harry would 
have called it. 

“ Did you ask Papa about the Dexter 
house?” whispered Laura at the first oppor- 
tunity. 

“No,” replied the boy simply, “I was too 
much afraid of him ; after what you told about 
his getting mad, I wouldn’t have said anything 
about Mr. Dexter for a hundred dollars.” 

Soon after dinner Bruce took his leave, hav- 
ing promised his new friends that he would pay 
them another visit as soon as he could. As he 
was saying good-bye, Laura slipped into his 
hand a small piece of paper, and when he 
opened it in the elevated train he found the 
following note: 

“ I have a splendid idea and will let you know about it 
very soon. I think it will help you to solve the mystery of 
the haunted house. 

“ Truly your friend, 

Laura Van Kuren. 


Chapter X. 


NE afternoon Mr. Peter Dewsnap was 



seated in the great library in which he 
passed most of his leisure time, busily engaged 
on a work in which he had taken a great deal 
of interest. A tap on the door interrupted his 
labor, and in response to his invitation Bruce 
Decker entered the room, cap in hand, and 
saluted him. 

“ Ah, it’s you, young Decker, is it ? ” said 
the old gentleman, as he rose to greet his vis- 
itor. “Well, how is the chief to-day ? ” 

“ He’s very well,” answered the boy, in hes- 
itating tones, “ and the fact is it was at his ad- 
vice that I accepted your invitation to come up 
and see your library.” 

“Very glad to see you, indeed, my young 
friend,” responded the old gentleman, cordially. 
“ As you said yourself the other day I’m an old 
fire crank, and I like nothing better than talk- 
ing to young men of your age about what I 
think is the most important branch of public 
service in the country. Sit down here, Decker, 
and if you’ve an hour to spare it won’t do you 


78 




Bruce in Mr. Dewsnap’s ‘ fire library.*— 
Page 79, 






THE THIRD ALARM. 


79 


any harm to hear an old man talk about a sub- 
ject that’s nearest to his heart.” 

Bruce seated himself in one of the big 
leather arm chairs and glanced about the room. 
He had never seen as many books in hand- 
some bindings in all his life, and he was partic- 
ularly struck with the fact that one side of the 
room was completely filled with oaken shelves 
containing only books bound in red morocco. 
About the room were also scattered a number 
of old colored prints representing, for the most 
part, pictures of fires and of engines. 

“Those books in red constitute my fire 
library,” said Mr. Dewsnap, “and I am proud 
to say that it is one of the best, if not the very 
best, in this country. I have books in French, 
German and English, for you know that the 
service has a much greater literature than most 
people have any idea of.” 

Then Mr. Dewsnap lit a cigar, puffed 
thoughtfully at it for a moment or two, and 
went on : “The trouble with most of the boys 
who want to become firemen is that they are so 
carried away with the idea of jumping out of 
bed at a moment’s notice and tearing away 
through the streets at full gallop, and then 
turning streams on the flames and climbing up 
ladders and all the rest of it, that they entirely 


8o 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


forget the fact that there is a serious side to it 
all, and that being a good fireman involves 
more in the way of training, both physical and 
mental, than almost any other public career 
that is open to them. 

“As I told you the other day, people have 
been in the habit, or to speak more correctly, 
were in the habit during the ante-bellum days, 
of regarding firemen as a lot of toughs and 
loafers who got together to have a good time 
and a big hurrah, and sometimes even for 
political purposes, and comparatively few really 
knew what a fireman’s life meant. Well, when 
you look at those books there, many of which 
were written by people of the highest eminence 
in science or literature, you realize that there 
must be something in the art of overcoming 
the most destructive and dangerous of all the 
elements to excite the attention and enlist the 
brains of these men. Now take this book for 
example and glance through it.’’ 

Bruce took a large fiat volume which Mr. 
Dewsnap handed him, opened it, and glanced 
attentively at some of its copper plates. They 
represented men in quaint, old-fashioned cos- 
tumes, engaged in putting out fires by the 
most primitive of means, chiefly by leather 
buckets passed from hand to hand. The book, 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


Si 


as Mr. Dewsnap explained, was printed in 
1735 in Holland by Jan vander Heiden, the 
first inventor of flexible hose. It was an ex- 
haustive treatise on conflagrations and the art 
of extinguishing them. 

“ What did they make the hose of in those 
days?” asked Bruce, as he studied the old- 
fashioned prints with deep attention. 

“Leather,” replied Mr. Dewsnap. “And 
leather continued to be used until forty years 
ago. In fact, it’s used to a great extent to 
this very day in the smaller towns and cities 
where fires are of rare occurrence. There are 
some men who claim that it is better than rub- 
ber because it lasts longer and does not rot so 
easily, but I just showed you that book because 
its pictures would give you some idea of the 
enormous advancement that has been made in 
the last century and a half. Here’s another 
book written in German that is devoted entirely 
to the burning of the Theatre Comique in 
Paris a few years ago. Four books in all have 
been written and published on that subject 
alone, but strange to say, no book has yet been 
written in regard to the burning of the Brook- 
lyn Theatre, which was a catastrophe involving 
an infinitely greater loss of life. It is interest- 
ing, by the way, to know that every great fire 


82 


THE THIRD ALARM, \ 


teaches us some important lesson, and the dk 
rect result of the Brooklyn Theatre fire was a 
number of new laws which govern the con- 
struction of theatres, and provides for various 
improvements and appliances for safety that 
had never been thought of before.” 

“Why is it,” inquired Bruce, “that so many 
of these books seem to be by French, German 
or English authors, instead of by Americans ? 
It seems to me that as we have the best de- 
partment in the world, the best books on the 
subject ought to be by American writers.” 

Mr. Dewsnap smiled broadly at the boy’s re- 
mark. “That’s a very pertinent question, 
my lad,” he said, “and the answer to it is sim- 
ply this : Those foreigners are more given to 
writing and talking and thinking than we are. 
Here we go ahead and do things without stop- 
ping to write books about them. I’m expect- 
ing some foreigners here within a short time, 
and when they come I shall take them down to 
call on Chief Trask. If you see them, you will 
understand what I mean when I speak of the 
difference between Americans and either Ger- 
mans or Englishmen.” 

“What do you consider the greatest im- 
provement that has been made in the depart- 
ment in your recollection ? ” asked the boy. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


83 


“ Well, to my mind, though I would not have 
admitted it twenty years ago, I think that the 
fact that politics has been eliminated from the 
department is one of the chief things that we 
have to be thankful for, and I believe that it is 
almost the first time in the history of the world 
that a fire department has been run without 
mixing it with political affairs. Why, before 
the birth of Christ, the Emperor Pompey once 
refused to allow a new fire company to be 
formed in Rome because he knew that it was 
merely an excuse to get together a new crowd 
of his political opponents, and in the old days 
when I used to run with a company, politics 
and the fire department were very much mixed 
up. I could give you the names of dozens of 
men who have reached the highest offices in 
the city and have climbed all the way up by 
means of their connection with the fire de- 
partment. Some of these were good men 
and others were not. But nowadays when 
a lad like yourself enters the service he 
sees nothing ahead of him except that ser- 
vice, and the consequence is if he stays in 
it he devotes himself to his duties with no 
object in view except to become chief of 
the department. At least that’s what he ought 
to do. 


8 4 


THE THIRD ALARM \ 


“ But for all its politics and its toughs, the 
members of the old department had just as 
much pluck and were just as ready to take the 
hose nozzle in hand and go right into a burn- 
ing building as they are to-day. I’ve shown 
you these books, my boy, because I wanted 
you to feel that there was a dignity in the ser- 
vice to which you intend to devote yourself, 
and if you want to rise in it, it must be by hard 
work, obedience to orders, and constant study. 
Don’t be afraid to borrow some of these books 
of me to read when you have nothing else to 
do. There are plenty of them that are in Eng- 
lish that you could learn something from. It’s 
education nowadays that tells. But I’ve a 
project in my mind that both Mr. Trask and I 
have devoted considerable time to, and I hope 
to live to see the day when it will be carried out. 
I want to see a school established in which boys 
like yourself can be trained for the fire depart- 
ment just as they are trained for the navy. 
My idea would be to take a number of boys 
every year from the public schools in the city and 
give them a regular course of training in gymnas- 
tics and special scientific studies so that by the 
time they were twenty-one they would be much 
better prepared to fight fire than are the young 
men that usually join the department at that age.” 


THE THIRD ALARM 


85 


“ That’s a magnificent idea ; ” cried Bruce with 
an enthusiasm that was so hearty and genuine 
that the old gentleman was delighted, “ and I 
can tell you one thing, and that is you wouldn’t 
have any difficulty in getting scholars for it. 
It seems to me that every boy in New York is 
just as crazy to run to fires as I was when I 
lived in the country. Why, do you know sir, 
that every time we start out of quarters there’s 
such a swarm of young ones in the street that 
it’s a wonder we don’t run over two or three 
of them. And besides, boys seem to me to be 
tougher and more supple than men. There 
are lots of things I can do in an athletic way that 
Tom Brophy can’t and he’s twenty-five years 
old.” 

“Well,” said the old gentleman pleasantly, 
“you ask some of the lads of your acquaint- 
ance how they’d like to join such a school as 
that and put down on paper any ideas you 
may have regarding it. Then the next time I 
see you we will talk them over.” 

As Bruce walked slowly homeward after one 
of the pleasantest hours he had spent since his 
arrival in the city, he felt a new pride which he 
had never known before, in the great depart- 
ment which it was his wish to serve. The fact 
that fire departments had existed since the 


86 


THE THIRD ALARM 


earliest times had never occurred to him, and 
he determined to devote all his leisure time to 
a study of Mr. Dewsnap’s pet scheme of a 
training school in the hope that he might be 
able to render the kindly old gentlemen some 
service which he would appreciate. 


Chapter XI. 


I T was not at all unnatural that Bruce Decker 
should cherish in his heart a strong desire to 
go to a fire as one of the members of the truck 
company. This longing grew stronger in his 
heart every day, and when the opportunity did 
come it found him, fortunately enough, ready 
to make the most of it. 

It happened one warm day in August, that 
three or four of the men were absent on their 
summer’s vacation and one or two others 
because of illness, and while the company was 
thus crippled, Charley Weyman fell and hurt 
his right arm so badly that the chief advised 
him to go around to the nearest doctor’s and 
have it dressed. As the injured fireman left 
the quarters, his superior turned to Bruce and 
said, “ My boy, you see how short-handed we 
are to-day ; now do you think that if an alarm 
should come in you could take Weyman’s 
place on the driver’s seat? ” 

The boy’s eyes brightened and there was 
an eager look in his face as he made answer, 
“ I’m sure I could and I only wish that an 
alarm would come in.” 


87 


88 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“All right,” said the chief “just keep your- 
self in readiness for we can never know when 
there is an alarm coming.” 

Then he went up stairs, and Bruce stepped 
out into the street, and looked up and down it 
as far as his eye could reach as if he expected 
to see the smoke and flame bursting out from 
some building within his range of vision. But 
the sun poured down on his bare head, and he 
was soon glad to retreat to the shade of the quar- 
ters, where he stood idly looking at the brass 
gongs, and wondering how soon they would 
begin to ring out their tale of smoke, flame 
and disaster. 

And then the thought occurred to him that 
he had no right to stand there wishing for a 
fire which might bring ruin and death to his 
fellow creatures, and could benefit no one but 
himself ; and it was not at all certain that it 
would benefit even him. So he satisfied his 
conscience by changing the form although not 
the tenor of his thoughts. “ I wish,” he said to 
himself “that if it were necessary for the 
world’s good to have a fire to-day that it 
might be right here within this district. 
There’s no harm in wishing that I’m sure. Of 
course I wouldn’t like to have any people 
killed at the fire or to have any poor man lose 


THE THIRD ALARM 


89 


all his furniture and clothes, but there are fires 
every day, and this is the first time I’ve ever 
had a chance — ” 

“ Clang ! clang !” rang out the brass gong 
at his side, and never, since the first time that 
he heard an alarm ring, had the sound of the bell 
stirred him with such excitement as it did now. 

His opportunity had come at last, and with- 
out a moment’s delay he clambered up over 
the wheel of the truck and dropped into the 
driver’s seat. 

He knew that some of the men were racing in 
from the back room, that others were sliding 
down the brass poles, and that two of them were 
already at the horses’ heads, while another was 
adjusting the harness on the chief’s wagon. 

And all this time Bruce was saying to him- 
self, “ Now, I’m going to keep cool, no matter 
what happens, and I’ll not spoil the greatest 
chance of my life by getting nervous.” 

It was with this thought in his mind that he 
seized the reins and waited quietly until the 
men had snapped the collars about the horses’ 
necks and fastened the reins to their bits. 
Meantime the brass gong had been ringing the 
number of the station, and the boy, with his 
wits entirely about him, was keeping count of 
the strokes. 


9 o 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“One, two, three — one, two — one, two, 
three, four, that’s 324,” he said to himself as 
he tightened the reins, while the men gave the 
eager horses their heads and sprang up on the 
truck. 

Bruce knew where station No. 324 was, for 
he had long since familiarized himself thor 
oughly with the district in which the company 
was located, so as he passed over the threshold 
he gave the horses their heads, and turning 
sharply to the right was soon on his way to the 
densely populated east side region in which 
the fire was raging. 

Chief Trask, seated in his little wagon, 
passed him before he had reached the first 
corner, his horse going at full gallop, and the 
gong in the dashboard ringing out its sharp 
warnings. As the chief went by he turned his 
head and saw his young protege sitting bolt 
upright in Weyman’s seat, looking carefully 
ahead of him, and keeping his horses well 
in hand although they were going at almost 
their best speed. The boy seemed perfectly 
cool, and it was apparent to the superior officer 
that he knew what his duty was and proposed 
to perform it. Then the chief took the lead, 
and as they passed the first street, the engine 
and tender, with Captain Murphy in command, 






Down this thoroughfare for three blocks — and never in hi* 
life had Bruce known such a reckless ride . — Page 91. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


9i 


came thundering along, turned the corner, and 
fell in behind them. Now they turned into a 
crowded thoroughfare where the people, 
warned by the sharp clanging of the gong in 
the chief’s wagon, hastily made way for the fly- 
ing battalion. Down this thoroughfare for 
three blocks — and never in his life had Bruce 
known such a reckless ride — then another 
sharp turn carried them into full view of the 
fire. 

The upper story of a factory was ablaze, and 
in the street in front of it two policemen were 
vainly trying to keep back an excited throng of 
people, many of whom were yelling and gestic- 
ulating and talking in German and Polish, 
while others were weeping from sheer excite- 
ment. The chief was on the sidewalk in a mo- 
ment and, in an incredibly short space of time, 
the crowd had been driven away to a respect- 
ful distance, the hose attached to a hydrant 
across the street and run rapidly out to a con- 
venient length, while the members of the truck 
company, acting under their chief’s order, were 
quickly and quietly getting their ladders 
against the front of the building and preparing 
to ascend. Bruce did not know exactly what 
he was expected to do, but concluded that it 
would be best for him to sit where he was and 


9 2 


THE THIRD ALARM '. 


take care of his horses. From his place in the 
driver’s seat he noted carefully the speedy, 
intelligent and systematic work of the brigade. 
He saw the chief of battalion cast his practiced 
eye at the building and then tell his men where 
to direct the streams of water. In less than 
two minutes the flames were under control, 
and the frightened people, who had been 
screaming and crying in the street, realized 
that what they had mistaken for an awful con- 
flagration was in reality nothing but a compara- 
tively harmless combustion in the factory’s 
upper floor, that no lives had been jeopardized, 
and that all danger of the flames spreading had 
vanished in the face of the rapid and efficient 
work of Chief Trask’s men. 

The neighborhood was inhabited chiefly by 
foreigners, and Bruce could hear these people 
talking to one another in half a dozen strange 
tongues, as they leaned out of windows or 
crowded about the engines as closely as the 
police would allow them. And among this 
crowd of chattering, excited aliens, Bruce 
noticed one man of striking appearance, who 
seemed totally different from those about him, 
and who stood on the steps of a tenement house 
and watched the fire with amusement and in- 
terest reflected on his countenance. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


93 


In marked contrast to the other denizens of 
the street, this man was well dressed and carried 
with him an unmistakable air of prosperity. He 
was tall and dark, and his heavy black beard 
was cropped close to his face. As he stood 
on the top step the boy could see his profile, dis- 
tinctly. It was clear cut, the nose slightly 
aquiline and the chin and mouth firm and 
square. He wondered idly what this well- 
dressed man could be doing in that part 
of the city, and, while he was still won- 
dering, the subject of his thoughts came 
down the steps and walked quickly away, 
for by this time the fire was out, the men 
were reeling up the hose, and the members of 
the truck company were returning their appa- 
ratus to the truck and preparing to go 
home. 

At the same time the uniformed employees 
of the insurance patrol placed themselves in 
the doorways of the factory and Chief Trask 
came over to where Bruce was sitting with his 
horses and bade him start for home. As they 
drove slowly in the direction of the quarters 
they passed the tall man with the close cropped 
black beard. He eyed them sharply, as they 
went by, and as he turned his face, Bruce 
noticed what he had not observed before, 


94 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


namely, a long scar which ran obliquely across 
his chin. 

Just at this moment he heard one of the men 
on the truck behind him say to his fellow : 
“ There’s that tall, ugly looking chap that used 
to come round to the quarters every once and 
a while, I haven’t seen him for six months 
now, and I don’t know that I want to see him 
again, for I never liked his looks.” Bruce 
eagerly turned his head for a final glimpse of 
the dark stranger, but he had disappeared. 

“ Never mind,” he said to himself, “ that face 
is fixed in my mind and I’ll never forget it. 
One of these days I’ll find out who that man is, 
and what he had to do with my father.” 

That afternoon he sat in his accustomed 
corner in the back room of the quarters, think- 
ing over his day’s experience. He was very 
quiet and did not join in the conversation that 
was going on around him. He wanted to tell 
his friend, Weyman, about the tall stranger 
with the scar on his chin, and he would have 
done so, had it not been that he remembered 
Laura’s emphatic order not to allow any one 
but herself to share his secret. 

For fully half an hour he thought the matter 
over, and then determined, reluctantly it must 
be owned, not to say anything about it to Wey- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


95 


man, until he had obtained the young girl’s per* 
mission. 

And it was just at this stage of his investiga- 
tions that he made his first serious blunder. If 
he had gone at once to his friend and told him 
about the man whom he had seen down among 
the Poles and Russians and Germans, in the 
tenement house quarter of the town, it would 
have made a great difference in his life. But 
he allowed himself to be influenced by a pretty, 
imperious, spoiled little girl, instead of by a 
quick-witted, sensible and devoted friend, with 
results which will be described in future chapters 
of this story. 


Chapter XII. 


HARLEY WEYMAN was anxious to 



learn how his boy friend had been re- 
ceived and entertained in the Van Kuren man- 
sion, and he listened attentively while Bruce 
described his visit, told him how friendly Laura 
and Harry had been, and with what courtesy 
he had been welcomed by their father and their 
aunt, but somehow he neglected to mention 
his long conversation with Laura in the summer- 
house, nor did he refer to the Dexter mansion 
at all. The young girl’s words still rang in his 
ears, and it was a pleasant thought to him that 
he had a secret to share with her, a secret which 
none of his other friends need know about. 
The little scrawl which she had placed in his 
hand at parting he kept in the innermost com- 
partment of his pocket book, and many a time 
during the day while engaged at his work he 
would take the little crumpled bit of paper out 
or its hiding place, read it carefully through and 
then return it, carefully folded up. 

And as he did so, he would wonder for the 
thousandth time what her splendid idea could 


96 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


97 


be, and how it could help him to solve the 
mystery of what she called the “haunted 
house.” It was just a week after his visit to 
the Van Kuren’s that he entered the quarters 
and found a letter addressed to him lying on 
the table in the back room. He recognized the 
handwriting at once, and was conscious of a 
faint color that crept into his cheeks as he 
seized the precious missive and went upstairs 
to read it. This is what he found when he tore 
off the envelope. It was carefully written 
in pencil on a sheet of paper, which looked 
as if it had been torn out of a school copy 
book. 

“ Bruce Decker, Esq. 

Dear Friend : I have found out where my old nurse lives, 
and perhaps if you go to see her she will tell you what you 
want to know. Don’t tell her that you know me, or that 
you were ever at our house, but ask her about Mr. Dexter 
and why he lives there all by himself. I think there is 
an awful mystery about it all, and perhaps some day you 
will be the hero of a story that will tell about it. 

“ When are you coming up to see us again? Good-bye 
now, for the present. Your true friend, 

Laura VanKuren. 

P. S. — I heard papa say that you seemed to be a very 
nice boy. 

P. S. — I forgot to tell you about Ann’s address. She 
lives at ooo Ave. A, and her name is Mrs. Ann Crehan.” 


9 * 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


Bruce was not long in making his way to the 
address given in Laura’s letter. Mrs. Crehan 
seemed to be nearly a hundred years old, and 
was certainly very deaf. He succeeded after a 
while in making her understand what he 
wanted. 

“Aye, aye, sir,” she said, “ Shure they were 
good people, too, for all the master had his 
quarrel with them, but there’s none left now 
except the ould gentleman, for his son went 
away and never came back.” 

“ But what was the quarrel about ? ” bawled 
the boy at the top of his lungs. 

“What was the quarrel about?” repeated 
the old woman. “Why it was about family 
matters, of course. What else do people quarrel 
about? ” 

“But can’t you remember what sort of family 
matters they were ? ” persisted Bruce. 

“No, sir, I cannot,” rejoined the old woman, 
with a look of fox-like cunning on her face ; 
“ and if I could I’d not be talking about it either. 
What right have I, who was a servant in the 
family of Mr. VanKuren, and of his wife that’s 
dead and gone — may the Lord have mercy on 
her soul — this ten year come next January, 
what right have I to be gossiping with the likes 
of you about their private matters ? No, young 


I 



She seemed to be nearly a hundred years old, and she was 
certainly very deaf , — Page 98. 




THE THIRD ALARM. 


99 


man, ye’ll get nothing out of Ann Crehan about 
the VanKurens, or the Dexters, or any other 
of the rale quality that we had in thim days 
when I went out to service.” 

For half an hour Bruce vainly endeavored to 
elicit from the old woman some facts regarding 
the history of the Dexter family. Sometimes 
she seemed on the point of telling something, 
and then the old look of cunning would come 
back to her wrinkled face, and she would shake 
her head and chuckle, declaring that she knew 
her place and nothing could induce her to 
gossip about her old master or his family affairs. 

He even went so far as to ask her if she re- 
membered a tall, dark bearded man with a scar 
across his chin, who used to visit the family, 
occasionally, but at this inquiry the old woman 
became very angry and. declared that he was 
an impertinent young spalpeen to come into a 
decent body’s house and attempt to pry into 
matters that did not concern him. She said, 
moreover, that she was going to tell Mr. Dexter 
himself, the next time he came to see her — 
“and he might be here any minute,” she 
added — and the boy on hearing this threat, 
departed with much speed, and slunk cautiously 
along the street, looking on every side for Mr. 
Samuel Dexter. 


IOO 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


Charley Weyman told Bruce that he had read 
in a “ Complete Handbook of Etiquette ” that 
it was ordained by the leaders of fashion that 
any one entertained at a dinner party should 
make what is known as a “dinner call” within 
a week or ten days after the dinner. There- 
fore he advised the young boy to present him- 
self at the Van Kuren mansion some afternoon, 
in acknowledgment of the courtesy which had 
been shown him. 

Bruce, who had been trying for three days to 
contrive some plausible pretext for going up to 
that part of the town again, was only too glad 
to hear this, and that very afternoon, having 
first secured Mr. Trask’s permission, he made 
himself as neat as he possibly could, and started 
on the elevated train. 

Never before had a journey by steam seemed 
to him as long as this one. He counted the 
blocks as they passed beneath him, and rejoiced 
to think that every minute lessened the distance 
between him and the young girl who was now 
occupying a large share of his thoughts. As he 
approached the Van Kuren mansion, he strained 
his eyes to look over the hedge that separated 
the lawn from the highway, hoping that he might 
catch a glimpse of Laura somewhere in the 
grounds. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


IOI 


He was not disappointed. Just as he passed 
through the gate, he caught sight of some one 
seated in the summer-house — the very one in 
which he had had his long talk on the occasion 
of his first visit — and then it seemed to him that 
this some one looked up for a moment, recog- 
nized him, and then became absorbed in the 
pages of a book. It was Laura ; but although 
his feet sounded noisily on the gravel-walk she 
did not look up, and when at last he stopped, a 
little embarrassed, at the step of the summer- 
house, lifted his hat, and addressed her by 
name, she started as suddenly as if she 
had been awakened from a dream, and then, so 
it seemed to him, recognized him with much 
surprise. 

She asked him to sit down, which he did, 
placing himself at the very edge of a rustic bench 
and holding his hat awkwardly over his knees. 
Then she laid her book down on the table in 
the middle of the house, with the leaves open 
at the place where she had been reading, a pro- 
ceeding which somehow gave to her visitor the 
impression that she hoped to resume it again at 
an early moment. This, taken in connection 
with a certain cool reserve in her manner, which 
was altogether different from what he had ex- 
perienced at her hands before, acted like a 


102 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


cold chill upon the young man — which was pre- 
cisely the effect which she had reckoned on. 

The truth is that Laura, like a great many of 
the most charming of her sex, was a natural 
born coquette, and, having noticed how eagerly 
her young admirer responded to her advances 
on the occasion of their first meeting, she took 
pleasure in treating him now with a degree of 
indifference which led him to fear that he had in 
some way managed to offend her. 

Bruce had had very little experience with girls, 
and for that reason he felt chilled and hurt at 
the manifest change in Laura’s voice and man- 
ner. If he had known a little more of the sex 
he would have been very much flattered to think 
that this clever, brilliant and fascinating young 
beauty — for such Laura really was — should have 
taken the trouble to play upon his feelings at 
all. And if, moreover, Bruce had dreamt of 
the amount of interest that he had awakened in 
her, he would have been that afternoon the most 
jubilant young man in the whole city. She had 
been thinking of hardly anything but the 
romantic history of the good-looking, modest, 
young fire laddie, and she was at this very mo- 
ment fairly burning to know if he had found out 
anything more about the mystery which envel- 
oped his origin and in which it seemed to her 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


103 


that somehow her own friends were associated. 
If she could only find out why her father had 
quarreled with Mr. Dexter, she might be able to 
help him and perhaps to make him comprehend 
why the old doorway had looked so familiar. 

For a few minutes the two conversed, stiffly, 
about matters in which neither had any real 
interest, for all the world as if they had 
been full grown people, instead of a mere 
boy and girl. Then Laura saw that her guest 
was too shy to broach the topic which was 
uppermost in the minds of both, and so she 
relented a little, smiled quite pleasantly, but 
not too pleasantly, and asked him with assumed 
carelessness if he had found out anything more 
about his mysterious origin. 

“No,” replied Bruce, but with a note of hesi- 
tation in his voice, which served to whet Laura's 
curiosity to such a degree that she exclaimed, 
bluntly, “ Do tell me if you went to see old 
Ann, and what she said to you ; I am just dying 
to know.” 

Her enthusiasm cheered Bruce enormously 
and restored a good deal of the self-confidence 
which had disappeared when he believed that 
he had somehow offended her. 

“ I went to see her,” he said, “but I really 
could not get anything out of her, for she’s very 


104 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


old and deaf, and seems to be actuated by but 
one motive, which is to keep to herself what- 
ever matters of family history she may have 
learned while she was in your father’s employ. 
I think she knows something about that Mr. 
Dexter and the reason of the family quarrel, 
and she might possibly talk to you about it, but 
she looked upon me as an impertinent 
stranger, and I could get nothing out of her. 
But there was something that happened the 
other day that might or might not lead to some 
further developments. But I suppose if I were 
to tell you, you would repeat it to your father 
or to Harry ” 

“ Go on this minute, and tell me ! You know 
perfectly well we’re not either one of us to talk 
to anybody about our secret. Just let me once 
catch you telling, that’s all. Now go on.” 

“ Well,” continued Bruce, highly elated by 
the young girl’s interest in him and her return 
to her old manner, “ the other day there was a 
fire down in apart of the city where it’s nothing 
but tenement houses and factories and where 
nobody but foreigners live. I drove the hook 
and ladder truck, of course,” the boy inflated 
his chest, proudly, as he said this, " and while 
I was sitting there looking at the fire I saw a 
well-dressed gentleman with a black beard, 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


io 5 

standing on the step of one of the tenement 
houses. As we were driving home slowly we 
passed him again, and a couple of the men on the 
truck saw him, too. Who do you think he was ? ” 

“I don’t know, tell me quick ! ” cried Laura 
who was listening with breathless interest and 
cheeks flushed with more than their natural 
color. 

“I noticed,” continued Bruce in dramatic 
tones, “that he had a long scar across his 
chin V 

“Mercy!” gasped Laura. “It must have 
been that fearful man you told me about who 
used to come down to see your father. If we 
could only find him, the mystery would be 
solved.” 

“ But I couldn’t get off the truck, and so I 
had to go back to the quarters without learning 
anything more,” said Bruce sadly, and just then 
Harry came whooping across the lawn, seized 
Bruce by both hands, waltzed him out of the 
summer-house and succeeded in throwing him 
on his back on the grass before the astonished 
boy fairly realized what had happened. This 
was Harry’s exuberant way of welcoming a 
friend, and a moment later he had Bruce on his 
feet again and was helping to rub the dust and 
the grass stains from his clothes. 


106 THE THIRD ALARM. 

Of course Harry’s advent put an immediate 
stop to the conversation and half an hour later 
Harry proposed that they should all go out for 
a walk. 

“You’d better not unless you’ve got your 
lesson, Mr. Harry, I can tell you that,” said his 
sister in warning accents, “you know what will 
happen the next time you’re caught running 
off without doing your work first.” 

“ Oh, bother the lessons ” cried the boy care- 
lessly, I can do them after I get back.” 

Ten minutes later as they were walking 
quietly along the highway Bruce suddenly fell 
behind the others a step, seized Laura’s arm 
in one hand and with the other pointed to a 
man who had just passed them, driving a fine 
pair of black horses. 

Laura looked at the driver and then at 
Bruce in a surprised way and then seemed to 
signal with her lips “who is he? ” 

In reply Bruce simply drew his finger slowly 
down his chin and Laura, catching his meaning 
at once, leaped excitedly on to a stone wall 
beside the road and gazed after the retreating 
buggy, straining her eyes to get a full, fair view 
of its occupant. 

“What’s the matter with you Laura?” de- 
manded her brother brusquely, “ you’re getting 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


107 


too old to be hopping up on stone walls, I can 
tell you.” 

Laura descended to the path again and 
walked quietly along with the two boys, not 
deigning to make any response to Harry’s crit- 
icism. 


Chapter XIII. 


F OR a few moments after Laura had de- 
scended from the wall the trio walked 
along in silence. Bruce, who had been really 
startled by the sudden apparition of the black- 
bearded man, was too busy with his own thoughts 
to do much talking. What did the presence of 
this mysterious stranger in that part of the town 
signify ? Could it be that he was following up 
the boy just as he had followed up the father ? 
Bruce could not drive from his mind the remem- 
brance of what Weyman had told him, and now, 
whenever he thought of his father, he remem- 
bered that on the very day when he went to 
his death in the smoke and the flames of the 
Broadway fire that same bearded stranger had 
called to see him and they had had a long, 
earnest talk together. 

And now, twice within a week, the stranger’s 
path had crossed that of the boy. Was this a 
mere accident or was he deliberately shadowing 
the young lad with a view to wreaking further 
vengeance on him ? As for Laura, she was fairly 
bubbling over with excitement, but she said 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


109 


nothing for fear of awakening her brother’s sus- 
picion. She wished that she could devise some 
excuse for getting him out of the way, if only 
for a few minutes, in order that she might have 
a few words with Bruce, and so as they 
paused for a moment at a turn in the road, she 
said innocently: “You see that fence down 
there by the brook? Well, Tommy Martin ran 
and jumped over it the other day and leaped 
clean on the other side of the brook. He’s the 
best jumper anywhere around here.” 

Now, Tommy Martin was a boy who lived 
near them and who often came over to visit 
them — a boy of whom Harry was decidedly 
jealous, partly because they had already been 
looked upon as rivals in such sports as running 
and jumping, and partly because they both liked 
the same girl, Kitty Harriott, a particular friend 
of Laura’s. Laura knew all about this rivalry 
when she took pains to point out the fence and 
brook over which Tommy had leaped so bril- 
liantly, and she was not surprised when Harry 
burst forth con temp tously : “ What do you mean 
by the best jumper anywhere about here ? You 
don’t call that anything of a jump, do you ? 
Why that’s nothing at all. I can go over it my- 
self and I’ll bet I’ll strike two feet further on 
the other side than Tom did ! ” 


no 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


With these words he slipped off his coat, 
walked over toward the spot indicated by his 
sister, surveyed it carefully and then walked 
back a dozen paces in order to make a flying 
leap. While he was doing this Laura had 
gasped out to Bruce, “ Was that really the man 
with the black beard and the scar that went 
by?” 

“Yes,” replied the boy, “I’d know him any- 
where I saw him. Did you get a fair look at 
him? ” 

“Not very,” answered Laura, “but I think I 
would know him again if I saw him. Wasn’t 
that neat, the way I got Harry away for a min- 
ute ? Now, you must be sure not to say a word 
to him or to anybody else about that man. 
We’ll keep that a secret for ourselves. My ! 
just look at Harry, he’s going to take that 
jump, The silly fool, Tommy never jumped 
over that, I just told Harry that so as to get 
him out of the way a minute. He thinks he 
can do everything that Tommy does and they’re 
both of them perfectly wild over the same girl, 
who is my dearest friend. I’ve told her all 
about you, and she’s just crazy to see you.” 

At this moment Harry leaped boldly over 
the fence and landed on the other side, but not 
quite where he had expected. Either the 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


hi 


brook was wider than he supposed or else his 
foot slipped, but somehow, instead of alighting 
on the grassy bank he struck in about two feet 
of water, clutched wildly at the branch of an 
overhanging tree and then fell over on his 
back. Laura began to laugh, but Bruce, fear- 
ing that his friend might have been hurt by his 
fall, ran down to help him. He crossed the 
fence just as Harry climbed up on the shore 
sputtering and blowing and wiping the mud and 
water from his face. He was completely soaked, 
and his cap was drifting rapidly down stream. 

“ Are you hurt ? "demanded Bruce anxiously. 

“ No, of course I’m not, but I’ll bet you 
Tommy Martin never made that jump ; Laura 
just said that to get me into the water. Never 
mind she’ll catch it when we get home. What 
are you laughing at up there ? ” he continued, 
turning suddenly and addressing himself to his 
sister who was standing by the roadside with 
amusement pictured on her face. “Perhaps 
you won’t think it so funny after a while,” con- 
tinued the boy, angrily, and then Bruce, fearing 
that he too might be moved to laughter by his 
comical appearance, ran off down the stream 
to recover the lost cap. 

Harry was soaking wet, and there was noth- 
ing for him to do but take off his coat and 


I I 2 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


waistcoat and place them on a big rock on 
which the sun had been shining all day, while 
he himself sat down beside them, wrung the 
water out of his trousers and began to dry 
off. He was in the midst of the drying 
process when Bruce said to Laura in a low 
whisper, “I’ve just got an idea in my head 
about that man. Doesn’t Mr, Dexter live near 
here?” 

“Yes,” replied the young girl, “about a 
quarter of a mile further on.” 

“Then he was going that way when he 
passed us, wasn’t he?” 

“ Certainly he was ; why I wonder if it could 
be possible that he was going up there. Do let 
us hurry on.” 

“ I do believe that you two have got some 
sort of a secret between you,” exclaimed 
Harry, suddenly looking up. “What man are 
you talking about ? I tell you you’d better let 
me know all about it.” 

“Secret,” said Laura, slyly, “there’s no 
secret in what I was saying, because every- 
body knows it. I was just telling him about 
Kitty and you, and there’s lots more things I 
could tell him if I wanted to.” 

Harry dropped the conversation at this point, 
and a minute or two later he picked up his 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


113 

coat and vest, declared that he was dry enough 
anyway and proposed that they should continue 
their walk. In a few minutes he had completely 
recovered his good humor and offered Bruce 
to run him a race to the next gateway. Bruce 
accepted the challenge, never doubting that he 
could win it, but he found to his surprise that 
the slim, active, young New Yorker was a much 
fleeter runner than he was, and, do what he 
could, strain every nerve as he might, he 
reached the goal completely out of breath and 
fully fifty feet behind his adversary, whom he 
found standing by the gate post looking, as he 
expressed it, “ as fresh as a daisy/’ and laugh- 
ing all over at his own success. 

Bruce was just a little bit annoyed to find 
himself so easily beaten by a lad whose appear- 
ance indicated anything but strength and 
agility, but when he saw how the little bit of 
excitement and the triumph of winning the race 
had restored his friend’s temper to its usual 
good-natured pitch and completely dispelled a 
feeling which might have culminated in a 
quarrel, he was rather glad on the whole that 
he himself had lost. 

Therefore he simply smiled pleasantly, and 
said what was perfectly true : “Well, I never 
thought you could run like that.” 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


114 

Then they sat down on the big, white marble 
carriage block and waited for Laura, whom 
they could see approaching at a leisurely pace. 
Bruce realized, as he looked about him, that 
they were not far from the Dexter mansion. 
In fact, by going out in the middle of the road, 
he could easily see the dark clump of firs and 
pines and the grey gate posts which guarded 
the entrance. As they walked along he and 
Laura exchanged significant glances from time 
to time and as they drew near to the house, he 
said to Harry, “ That’s the house I went to for 
those magazines and papers that day I met you.” 

“ Why, do you know old man Dexter ? ” 
demanded the boy with much interest. 

“ No,” said Bruce, “ except that he was very 
nice to me that day. Did you ever meet him ? ” 

“ Not for a long while,” replied Harry. 

“ Let’s all go into the grounds and see what 
the place looks like,” said Laura. 

“You’d better not, Laura, said her brother, 
significantly, “we’ll be sure to be caught if we 
do, and you know perfectly well what papa 
said would happen if he heard of our going 
there.” 

“ Well, I’ve a great mind to go in there and 
ask Mr. Dexter if he has any more magazines 
for us,” said Bruce, bravely. “ Pm not afraid 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


”5 


of those thick woods, and I’m not afraid of him 
either. Come along, let’s all go in there.” 

“I’d just as leave go,” said Laura, defiantly, 
“even if we were told not to, but listen, there 
comes somebody now.” They had just reached 
the gateway by this time and as they peered 
through it into the shadowy depths of the fir 
woods, they heard the quick hoof-beats of ap- 
proaching horses, and in another moment a 
buggy drawn by two black horses, came down 
through the grounds at a swift pace and passed 
through the gateway into the road. The tall, 
bearded and scarred stranger held the reins 
and beside him sat Mr. Samuel Dexter. Laura 
held her breath with excitement, and an eager 
gleam came into Bruce’s eyes as he turried 
significantly toward her. Another link had 
been added to the chain in which he was trying 
to connect the past with the present. Mr. 
Dexter and the mysterious one were evidently 
friends, and he resolved that the very next day 
he would go to him, tell him his own history as 
far as he knew of it, and ask him to help him 
solve the remainder of it. 

“What are you going to do?” whispered 
Laura, excitedly. Bruce made no reply except 
to shake his head and place his fingers on his 
lips as if to command silence. 


Chapter XIV. 


( < I’D like to know what’s come over that boy 

1 lately,” said Tom Brophy, one morning, 
as he pointed to Bruce, who was standing idly 
by the wall with his broom in his hand gazing va- 
cantly into space instead of attending to his work. 

“I don’t know rejoined Weyman, “but my 
opinion is that he’s in love. When he first 
came here, he was as active and steady a lad 
as one would expect to see, but within a fort- 
night or so he has changed tremendously. 
You see he got acquainted with a young chap 
up town, and he’s been up there two or three 
times to visit him. This other boy’s father is 
well fixed, and the first time Bruce went up 
there he came back crazy over the big house 
and the servants and horses and all the 
rest of it. He’ll make a big mistake if he tries 
to fly too high.” 

“Well, all I’ve got to say is this,” observed 
Brophy, “ that if he don’t mind his eye he’ll 
have the chief jumping on him some day with 
both feet and when the chief jumps on a man 
he’s liable to know it. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


117 

Both Weyman and Brophy were right in 
regard to the young boy. He had altered 
materially since his acquaintance with Harry 
and Laura Van Kuren. It had made him dis- 
satisfied to see children of his own age living in 
the style that he had never dreamt of before, 
and he could not help asking himself why it was 
that he, Bruce Decker, should be obliged to look 
after horses, and run errands for the chief of 
a fire battalion while Harry, who was neither 
better nor cleverer than he was, had a pony of 
his own to ride, wore good clothes everyday, and 
in short, lived upon the very fat of the land; and 
this problem, which he put to himself very often 
now, always led him to speculate as to his own 
origin, and to wonder whether Laura could be 
right in her belief that he was being unjustly 
kept out of innumerable good things that 
rightfully belonged to him. 

Charley Weyman, who was a close observer 
and took a deep interest in the son of his old 
friend, was right in his surmise that Bruce was 
in love, although the boy himself would have 
been very much surprised if he had been told 
of it. Never in all his life had he met any girl 
as pretty, as well-bred and as charming as 
Laura Van Kuren. She seemed to him to have 
no fault, except perhaps her habit of quarreling 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


118 


with her brother, but that was an occurrence of 
such frequency that Bruce had become 
accustomed to it and was no longer surprised 
when the two children fell out. He had noticed, 
too, that they never “ stayed mad ” with one 
another, to use an expressive phrase in vogue 
among children, and although he had once 
seen Laura so far forget the ethics of society as 
to hurl a half a brick at her brother’s head, he 
noticed that within five minutes afterward they 
were playing together as happily as if nothing 
had happened. And then what boy could resist 
a girl who took as deep an interest in him as 
Laura did in the young fireman ? 

Why, she even took a much deeper interest 
in solving what she called, quoting from one of 
her favorite romances “the mystery that 
shrouded his birth ” than he did himself, and if 
it had not been for her active co-operation and 
sympathy he was sure that the incident of the 
old doorway of the Dexter mansion would have 
passed from his mind without his making any 
effort to learn its significance. 

Moreover, the novelty of life in the great city 
was beginning to wear off, and he could not 
deny that his work at quarters was becoming a 
trifle irksome to him. It was always the same 
thing, rubbing down the horses, cleaning out 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


119 

their stalls, waiting in the building while the 
men were away and now and then doing an 
errand for Chief Trask or Charley Weyman. 
He had not even been allowed to go to a fire 
since the important day when he drove the 
truck down to the tenement house region and 
beheld for the first time the tall man with the 
black beard and the scarred face. 

He was thinking of all these things and some 
others besides as he stood leaning against the 
wall with his broom in his hand, and as he re- 
sumed his work with a discontented sigh, he 
determined to take the first opportunity to go 
up town and ask Mr. Dexter about the man 
with whom he had seen him driving. He had 
to wait nearly a week before he could get an 
afternoon off, and a very long week it seemed 
to him, too. Finally, one bright afternoon saw 
him speeding northward on the elevated rail- 
road, his face bright at the prospect of seeing 
Laura and his heart beating with excitement 
as he thought of the interview which he had 
planned. 

He had determined to go at first to the Van 
Kuren’s, because Laura had charged him so 
solemnly not to do anything in the matter with- 
out first consulting her, that he felt that it would 
be absolute treachery on his part to ask the all- 


\ 


120 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


important question unless he had first obtained 
her permission. 

Descending the steps of the elevated station, 
he started at a brisk walk in the direction of 
his friend’s house, and what was his surprise 
and delight on turning the first corner to find 
himself face to face with both children who, 
accompanied by Mr. Reed, the tutor, were just 
starting for a long walk. They hailed him with 
boisterous delight and Bruce, having first bowed 
with much deference to Mr. Reed, of whom he 
stood in considerable awe, shook hands with 
both Laura and Harry and told them that he 
was just on his way to call on them. 

“We are just going out for a walk Master 
Decker,” said Mr. Reed, “and we would be 
very glad to have you accompany us.” Mr. 
Reed would not have invited any of the boys 
in the neighborhood to go with them, but he 
had been struck with the respectful manner in 
which Bruce had lifted his cap to him. Then 
they all set off together, Bruce and Harry 
marching ahead, while the tutor brought up in 
the rear with Laura. 

“Which way shall we go to-day ? ” said Harry, 
turning to the tutor, and at the same moment 
Bruce contrived to throw a significant glance at 
Laura, a glance which the young girl compre- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


I 2 I 


hended at once and which prompted her to ex- 
claim “ Oh, let’s follow this road along to where 
we were the other day, Harry, there’s a place 
there with lots of lovely flowers and there’s one 
tree that I don’t know the name of and I want 
to ask Mr. Reed what it is.” 

“Very well,” rejoined the tutor pleasantly, 
“we’ll go where you say, Miss Laura,” and 
Bruce chuckled to himself, as he noticed how 
the quick-witted girl’s tact served his purpose. 

They had not gone far before he contrived 
to fall behind the others with her for a moment, 
and whisper: “That’s just what I wanted; I 
came up here to go and see that Mr. Dexter, 
but I wouldn’t go until I had told you about it 
first ; I’m going to ask him who that man is he 
was driving with the other day.” 

Laura gave him a quick look which expressed 
her gratitude, and then said : “Be careful not 
to let Mr. Reed know that we ever talked 
about this Mr. Dexter before, because it would 
be awful if papa were to find out that we went 
as far through the gateway as we did that 
afternoon. When we get there, just tell 
him that you have an errand with an old gen- 
tleman who lives in the house, and we’ll walk 
along slowly while you’re inside. That’s the 
best way.” 


122 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


That ended their conversation and a moment 
later Bruce and Harry had leaped the fence 
into an adjoining field, and were down on their 
knees in the grass hunting for mushrooms. 
Neither the tutor nor either of the children 
could distinguish the edible mushrooms from 
toadstools and other fungi, but Bruce, who had 
often gathered them near his country home, 
readily pointed out the difference in appearance 
and smell between the two. Mr. Reed seemed 
very much pleased with what the boy told him ; 
for although he was thoroughly well versed in 
books and a most accomplished classical scholar 
and instructor, there were a great many things 
concerning everyday life of which he was 
ignorant, and it was plain to both of his young 
pupils that Bruce was rising rapidly in the 
tutor’s esteem. It was not long before they 
had gathered what the young country boy 
called “a good mess” of edible fungi, and 
when he had solemnly certified to the fact that 
there was not a toadstool in the whole lot, they 
were wrapped up in a bit of old newspaper and 
carefully hidden away in a cool, damp spot 
beside the very brook into which Harry had 
fallen the week before. 

“We’ll stop and get them on our return,” 
said the tutor, “ and I shall tell Mr. Van Kuren 





Bruce delivers a ltcture on botany . — Page 122 . 



THE THIRD ALARM. 


123 


when they are served at dinner to-night that it 
was you who showed us how to distinguish them.” 

They were drawing nearer the Dexter man- 
sion as he said this, and Bruce took occasion 
to say to the tutor “By the wav, I have a little 
errand here and if you’ve no objection I would 
like to stop a few minutes. There is an old 
gentlemen who sometimes sends magazines 
and books down to our quarters for the men 
to read, and I must see him for a noment.” 

“ Certainly,” replied the tutor “ where does 
he live ?” 

“In the next house — that one with the big 
hedge in front of it,” replied the boy. 

Mr. Reed stopped short, and the smile dis- 
appeared from his face and was replaced by 
a queer look of annoyance and anxiety. 

“Do you mean Mr. Dexter,” he asked. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Mr. Reed looked at his watch, and then 
said quietly: “It’s rather later than I thought 
it was, so I think we will return to the 
house. We shall walk slowly, so you may 
overtake us if your visit is not too long, Master 
Decker.” 

Bruce and Laura exchanged glances but did 
not dispute Mr. Reed’s order, and then, while 
the others turned their faces toward their home, 


124 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


Bruce darted through the gateway, and sped 
along the winding path through the fir trees. 

Ten minutes later, Laura, who had exhausted 
her ingenuity in devising excuses for delaying 
their return, heard with delight Bruce’s ‘familiar 
voice behind them, and stopped to wait for 
him. As he approached she saw that his face, 
which had been so bright and smiling all the 
afternoon, was sober and pale now, and the 
thought flashed across her mind that perhaps 
he had encountered the ghost of one of his rela- 
tives in the old house, some long-veiled woman 
flitting up and down the old staircase as spirits 
always did in the romances with which she was 
familiar. 

“Well ?” she said, as Bruce joined her 

“ I was just too late/’ said the boy with 
something like a sob in his voice, “ Mr. Dexter 
sailed* for Europe yesterday, and there’s no- 
body there but an old couple who are taking 
care of the house. They don’t know when he 
will be back or anything about it. There goes 
my last and only chance.” 


Chapter XV. 


NE afternoon Bruce Decker was seated in 



front of the quarters reading a newspaper, 
and waiting for the men to return from a 
fire to which they had been summoned half an 
hour before. So engrossed was he that he did 
not hear the footsteps of three gentlemen who 
were crossing the street directly in front of him, 
and he was startled to hear his name suddenly 
pronounced in a quick, imperious way. 

Leaping to his feet he found himself face to 
face with his kind old friend, Mr. Dewsnap, 
known to all the members of the company as 
the “fire crank.” Mr. Dewsnap’s companions 
were two gentlemen, both of them well dressed 
and of prepossessing appearance, and both un- 
questionably foreigners. One was a tall man, 
attired in a suit of very large checks, and the 
other was short, rotund and long haired. The 
former was evidently an Englishman, and the 
latter a German. 

“ Where’s the chief? ” inquired Mr. Dew- 
snap. 


126 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“Out with the company, ” replied the boy, 
taking off his cap, for Bruce had sense enough 
to know that politeness to his elders was al- 
ways a strong point in favor of any boy. 

“That’s too bad,” replied Mr. Dewsnap, 
taking out his watch, “because I have brought 
down these two gentlemen to show them the 
way we have in this country of putting out 
fires, and I wanted to have them make Chief 
Trask’s acquaintance. However,” he contin- 
ued, “I’ll just take them inside here and ex- 
plain what I can myself ; then when the chief 
comes back he can show them the rest.” 

With these words the three visitors entered 
the building, and in a moment Mr. Dewsnap 
was in the midst of a voluble description of the 
workings of the service. Bruce noticed that 
both strangers seemed to display a more than 
ordinary degree of interest, and they both of 
them took notes of what they heard. Mr. 
Dewsnap, who knew as much of the depart- 
ment as a good many firemen, talked to them 
energetically and kept them interested until the 
company returned from the fire, and Chief 
Trask, alighting from his wagon, came forward 
to welcome his visitors. The two visitors were 
introduced respectively as Baron Bernstoff and 
the Honorable Rupert Doubter. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


127 


“These gentlemen,” said Mr. Dewsnap, 
“have come to this country for the purpose of 
studying its peculiar institutions, and they are 
particularly desirous of learning all they can 
about the Fire Department of New York, the 
fame of which has spread through every city in 
Europe. The fact is, that although they are 
too polite to say so, I am afraid that they do 
not believe what has been told them in regard 
to the rapidity with which our companies get 
out to a fire when the alarm sounds. I’ve 
shown them as much as I can about the build- 
ing and explained to them the way the alarms 
are sent out, but I just wish you would tell 
them what you know, and give them a little 
illustration of how things are done.” 

Chief Trask, like all efficient members of the 
service, took a just pride in his work and was 
never so happy as when expatiating to be- 
nighted foreigners on the wonderful efficiency 
of the fire brigade of New York, as compared 
with those of the other leading capitals of the 
world. 

“Our motto, gentlemen,” said the chief, “is 
to be always ready for an emergency, and when 
that emergency comes to meet it without an 
instant’s loss of time. We have just come 
from a fire about six or eight blocks from here. 


128 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


and now you will see that the men are getting 
ready for the next alarm.” 

As he spoke he directed his visitors’ atten- 
tion to the truck, which by this time had been 
backed carefully into the quarters to its resting 
place in the centre of the building, while the 
men were leading the horses slowly up and 
down the street, to the admiration of a group 
of small boys who had been attracted to the 
scene by the return of the apparatus, and were 
now gazing upon the firemen with that pro- 
found respect which a New York boy always 
entertains for those superior and uniformed be- 
ings. The horses were thoroughly rubbed down 
and then returned to their stalls, and at the 
same time the men, aided by Bruce, carefully 
inspected the hook and ladder truck to see that 
nothing had been broken in their swift run, and 
then washed the mud from its wheels and did 
not leave it until it was in perfect order and 
ready to go out at once on parade should occa- 
sion require it. 

Baron Bernstoff viewed all these details with 
interest and approval, for the care with which 
everything was attended to and the industry 
with which the men went about their duties 
appealed strongly to his German mind, while 
his English friend, although he watched every- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


129 


thing just as attentively, did not seem nearly so 
much impressed with what he saw and was evi- 
dently very skeptical in regard to the efficiency 
of the American service. It was plain enough 
to Chief Trask, who was a keenly observant 
man, that in his secret heart the Honorable 
Rupert Doubter was not quite willing to trust 
the evidence of his own eyes and regarded all 
that he saw as things done simply for show and 
not for use. 

“That’s all very well,” he said at last, “and 
it seems to me that if you could tell exactly when 
a fire was going to break out your service would 
be perfect, but supposing the alarm comes in 
when some of the men are playing checkers 
and others are up stairs taking a nap, and a few 
more perhaps are up at the corner ” 

But here the chief interrupted him rather 
sharply. “ My men don’t spend their time 
hanging round street corners, and they don’t 
take naps in the afternoon like a lot of old 
maids. They play checkers sometimes, but I 
can tell you that if that gong rings they stop 
just where they are and don’t wait to finish the 
game. As I told you before our motto is to be 
always ready and I’ve forgotten the Latin 
words for it, I am sorry to say. The alarm 
may come in in the middle of the night when 


* 3 ° 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


they’re all in bed and asleep, and it may come 
in and find them all down stairs as you see them 
now, but the result is the same. By the time 
the driver gets into his seat the men are on the 
truck behind him, and off they go. If you will 
come upstairs with me I’ll take pleasure in 
showing you where we sleep and the way we 
have of getting out on time when we’re sent 
for.” 

Saying this, Chief Trask escorted his visitors 
up stairs to the dormitory, where he explained 
the method of turning out at night and sliding 
down the brass poles. To illustrate the last 
named feat, he called Bruce upstairs and had 
him go through the act of jumping against the 
pole and sliding down it to the floor below. 
The foreigners witnessed the act in silent 
amazement, and then the Englishman turned 
to Chief Trask and said, “ Upon me soul, this 
is all very extraordinary, don’t you know, but I 
would like to ask why they don’t go down the 
staircase ; it must be so much easier, and it is 
certainly not so wearing on their clothes,” 

“ The staircase ! ” cried Chief Trask, in hor- 
ror, “Why, that would take them fully five sec- 
onds longer than it does this way.” 

“ But what does five seconds count in get- 
ting to a fire ? ” persisted Mr. Doubter. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


* 3 * 

“I can tell you, sir,” replied the chief, “that 
we look upon five seconds as a considerable 
period of time in the matter of getting out to 
answer an alarm.” 

The Englishman shrugged his shoulders and 
said nothing further, and a moment or two 
later Mr. Dewsnap took the chief one side and 
whispered to him that he was sure Mr. Doubter 
did not believe one word that was said to him, 
and as for Baron Bernstoff, he was so accus- 
tomed to the old fashioned, slow-but-sure meth- 
ods in vogue in his native land, that it was im- 
possible to convince him that in a fire brigade, 
if nowhere else, quickness was an indispensable 
quality. 

“Why,” exclaimed the enthusiastic old gen- 
tleman, “ I told these men again and again 
about the time it takes to get out into the 
street and get a stream on at a fire, but it’s im- 
possible to convince them, and if you were to 
hear them talk about the way they run these 
things on the other side, you would know why 
it is that they can’t comprehend our methods.” 

“And do you mean to tell me,” inquired the 
German baron, “ that when an alarm comes 
in, let us say at midnight, your men jump 
right out of their beds, slide down those 
poles, and get away to the fire all in the space 


I 3 2 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


of a few minutes and without leaving anyone 
behind ? ” 

“ In a few minutes ! ” cried the chief, con- 
temptuously, “why how long do you imagine 
that it takes us to get up and get dressed, hitch 
up the horses and get started ? ” 

The foreigners immediately began to calcu- 
late on their fingers. “To begin with,” said 
Baron Bernstoff, “ I suppose that the light 
sleepers wake up of their own accord, and then 
go around and arouse such of their comrades 
as have not heard the alarm. That must take 
a minute and a half at the very least.” 

The chief’s eyes twinkled with amusement, 
and one of the men, who had been standing 
within earshot, walked hurriedly to the window 
for fear that his desire to laugh would get the 
better of him. Bruce, though he felt the same 
inclination, managed to control his features out 
of respect to the chief and his visitors, but Mr. 
Dewsnap had no such scruples, and he uttered 
a whoop of merriment which was contagious 
enough to cause the chief, Bruce, and even the 
fireman at the window to break out into sudden 
peals of mirth. 

“Go on sir?” said the chief apologetically, 
“It only seemed funny to us because such a 
thing as a man being a light sleeper is unheard 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


133 


of in the department. There’s no time allowed 
for him to sit up in bed and stretch himself and 
yawn and maybe ask somebody what time 
it is. He’s expected to jump out of bed 
and land on his feet in his turnout at the 
very first stroke of the gong, even if he hap- 
pens to be dreaming that he is Chief of the 
whole New York Fire Department. Well 
according to your calculations we’ll make it 
a minute and a half to get waked up. Now 
go on.” 

'‘Then,” continued the Baron, “I don’t sup- 
pose that a man is expected to make a very 
elaborate toilet even if he is going out into the 
streets, but he must put on his clothes, wash 
his hands and face ” 

“ We’re apt to get all the drenching we want 
when we get to the fire,” interjected Chief 
Trask, and the Baron continued without seem- 
ing to comprehend his remarks, “Well, sup- 
pose we say three minutes for dressing and an- 
other minute to get down stairs and hitch the 
horses — you don’t stop to call the roll of the 
men, do you ? ” 

“No,” rejoined the chief gravely “our only 
roll is the pay roll and a man drops off that 
pretty quick if he’s not at his place when the 
truck goes out.” 


134 


THE 1HIRD ALARM. 


“Let me see,” continued the visitor, “that 
makes five minutes and a half so far. If you 
get out in six minutes, you ought to do well. 
But there’s one thing I don’t understand and 
that is how you can be sure of arriving at the 
fire with the full strength of your company if 
you don’t call the roll or have some other 
means of assuring yourself that they’re all 
there when you started. Now in my country 
the men all stand up in a row and are inspected 
by their commanding officer before they leave 
their quarters, and each one must have his 
boots blacked and his clothing all properly ar- 
ranged before he gets up on the engine.” 

“ If we were to stop here to inspect our men 
we’d never get to the fire at all,” replied the 
chief. “ If a man doesn’t take interest enough 
in his work to turn out the instant the alarm 
comes, why there’s no room for him in the de- 
partment. Why, the rivalry between the differ- 
ent companies is so strong that every fireman 
feels that the reputation of his own machine rests 
on his shoulders, and, as I told you before, when 
that alarm comes in he gives a jump, no matter 
whether he is asleep or in the middle of a game 
of checkers ” 

“Would he jump if he were in the middle 
of a game of pinochle,” interrupted the Baron 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


135 


with a look of inquiring gravity that almost up- 
set Mr. Dewsnap again. 

“He’d jump no matter what he was doing,” 
the chief went on “and as for six minutes — 
well come down stairs with me, and I’ll turn the 
men out for your especial benefit, then you can 
take your watch out and time them so as to see 
just how long it does take.” 

Followed by the two foreigners and their 
American friend, Chief Trask proceeded down 
the stairs while Bruce descended by the more 
convenient and speedy pole. “You’d better 
come out here on the sidewalk where you won’t 
be in the way of the horses,” he remarked, and 
then, just as Baron Bernstoff had taken his 
watch from his pocket, the quick sharp notes of 
the gong fell upon their ears. It was a real 
alarm that had come in this time and the 
astounded foreigners saw the horses spring to 
their places and the driver climb to the seat, 
while the chief bounded into his wagon. Then 
the harness was fastened on both vehicles with 
a succession of sharp clicks. Charley Weyman, 
whose practiced eye had already told him that 
everything was securely fastened, detached the 
reins from the ceiling with a sudden pull and 
the next moment the big truck with Brophy at 
the wheel swept out of the quarters, just as the 


136 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


chief’s wagon dashed through the other door, 
turned sharply to the right, knocking the Hon- 
orable Rupert Doubter over on his back as it 
went by, and was nearly at the corner of the 
street when the Englishman picked himself up 
from the gutter and said to his friend. 

“ Did you get the beggars’ time ? ” 

“I forgot all about it,” rejoined the other 
with a sheepish glance at his watch, “ but it’s 
just ten seconds now so they must have got off 
in about six.” 

“Ten seconds ! ” cried Mr. Doubter, true to 
his convictions to the very last, “Why your 
watch must have stopped, man. Pve been lying 
on my back in the road there nearly five min- 
utes I am sure. But what’s become of our 
friend Dewsnap ? ” 

“He’s gone to the fire,’’ replied the Baron. 
“ I saw him waving his hand to us as he went 
by.” 

It was indeed true, Mr. Dewsnap, the most 
confirmed fire crank in New York, had mounted 
the truck along with the men and dashed off to 
the scene of action, leaving his two friends to 
shift for themselves, 



“ Did you get the beggars’ time ? ” — Page ij6. 



Chapter XVI. 


HERE came a time when Chief Trask 



* began to entertain doubts in regard to 
his young protege. He noticed that Bruce was 
growing absent-minded and seemed to have 
lost, if not interest in his work, at least a great 
deal of the enthusiasm which he had shown 
during his first weeks at the quarters. The 
boy would stand in the doorway, leaning on the 
chains, for an hour at a time, gazing vacantly 
into the street, and when called he would re- 
spond in an indolent, careless fashion, which 
was very different from the quick way which 
had previously characterized him. The chief 
watched him narrowly these days, and often 
asked himself if it were possible that he could 
be to blame for Bruce’s retrogression. 

“It may be,” he said to himself one day, 
“ that the boy has not enough to do, and is 
getting discontented because he finds the work 
so monotonous. It’s a queer sort of position 
for a lad to find himself in anyway, for at 
present he's neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good 
red herring. If he were a little older I’d try to 


*37 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


'38 

get him a regular appointment in the depart- 
ment, but, as it is, I don’t see that I can do any- 
thing more for him except, maybe, to let him 
go to a fire now and then. It would be good 
practice for him and give him something new 
to think about.” 

Bruce was growing discontented, there was 
no doubt about that. The work, although not 
severe, was monotonous, and he found the 
confinement at the quarters, especially while 
the men were away at fires, extremely irksome. 
Moreover, he noticed that other lads of his age 
who were employed in mercantile houses 
seemed to live more active lives, to make fairly 
good wages, and to have altogether a better 
time than he did. He had pictured the life in 
the fire department as one of brilliant excite- 
ment, highly spiced with adventure and danger ; 
and he had fancied himself as a sort of hero in 
a blue uniform and with a big fireman’s hat on 
his head, dashing through the streets on a fire 
engine or rescuing people from burning houses. 
He had also dreamt of getting his name, and 
perhaps his picture, into the newspapers, and of 
rising so rapidly in the department as to 
become its chief by the time he was twenty-one. 
And now instead of this life of adventure and 
success he found himself cooped up in a truck 


THE THIRD ALARM, 


*39 


company’s quarters all day long with very little 
to do but look after the horses, help the men 
about the truck and run errands for the chief of 
battalion. These duties were certainly not ex- 
hilarating, and he had already become very 
tired of them, but it was positively galling to 
be compelled to stay behind when the company 
went to fires, and he never saw them set out 
without gazing longingly after the truck and 
wishing that he were riding on it at the side 
of Tom Brophy. 

But there are little things which change the 
current of human life, and one of these little 
things happened just as Bruce was on the point 
of asking the chief to let him take a position in 
some store or office and give up the fire de- 
partment altogether. One afternoon, having 
been given a leave of absence from the 
quarters, he strolled down to Captain Murphy’s 
engine house, in order to have a chat with the 
captain, who had taken quite a liking to the 
son of his old friend and was always delighted 
to talk to him about the work in the depart- 
ment and to explain things that he did not 
know. 

“ They ought to take you with them to fires,” 
said the captain after he had finished some 
trivial detail which the boy did not understand. 


140 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“ I’d like nothing better than to go to fires 
all the time,” replied Bruce, “ but the fact is 
that the chief wants me to stay at the quarters 
while the men are away. So, while they’re off 
fighting the fire, I have to hang around and 
wait for them to come back. It’s mighty stupid 
work I can tell you, and I don’t mind saying 
that I’m getting rather sick of it and would like 
to find a job somewhere else.” 

“ I guess that’s what’s the matter with you, 
young man,” replied the captain. “ You don’t 
get variety enough in your life, and the next 
time I see the chief, I’m going to speak to him 
about it. You’ll never fit yourself to take a 
good position in the department unless you go 
out with the men. You can learn more by 
helping to put out one fire than you can by 
sitting around an engine house for a year. 
You’d better not think of looking for another 
job though, until you give this business a fair 
trial. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t 
make as good a fireman as your father was, for 
you’re quick and you’ve got a cool head on you 
just like that bay horse over there. There are 
some boys that you could never make firemen 
of, because they’re lazy and will shirk their 
work whenever they can, just like that black 
horse that goes on the tender. We’ve had him 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


141 

here a week and he’s going back to-morrow be- 
cause he is no good ’ Bruce looked at the 
two animals as the captain pointed them out to 
him, and realized that there was as much variety 
in horses as in boys. The bay who helped to 
pull the fire engine was a strong, clean limbed 
animal with a fine shaped head, sensitive ears 
and a quick, alert look in his face that was 
unmistakeable. The black, on the other hand, 
was a fat, sleepy looking animal who held his 
head down most of the time, and had such 
thick, clumsy looking legs that Bruce wondered 
how it was that he ever got to a fire on time. 

“The next time — ” began Captain Murphy, 
but what he intended to say will never be 
known, for just at that moment the sharp stroke 
of the gong startled him to his feet. Bruce 
started also, from mere force of habit, little 
dreaming of the whole significance of that 
sharply clanging bell. From force of habit also 
he turned to see if he couldn’t lend a hand. 
The men were already at the heads of the 
engine horses, and the heavy footed black was 
lumbering slowly from his stall to his place at 
the pole of the tender. 

Without waiting to be told, Bruce sprang at 
his head, snapped the collar about his neck 
adjusted his head-stall and attached the reins, 


142 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


and did it all so quickly and thoroughly that 
Captain Murphy, who was just leaping from the 
floor to his place on the ash-pan, cried out: 
“Well done, young man, we’ll make a fireman 
of you yet.” 

And then, acting on the spur of a sudden and 
fortunate inspiration, Bruce made answer, with 
a meaning glance at his superior : “ Not unless 
you give me a chance to go to fires.” 

“ Up with you, then,” rejoined the captain, 
and the boy sprang up beside him just as the 
engine started. As they passed across the 
threshold the engineer lit his torch of oil-soaked 
rags and threw it under the boiler, which was 
filled with kindling wood also soaked in oil. 
The flames blazed up fiercely, fanned by the 
draft made by the swift motion of the vehicle, 
and in a moment the engineer was feeding them 
with one shovel after another of coal. By this 
time the engine was racing madly up the street, 
ringing its brass bell in sharp warning to all in 
its course. Captain Murphy was standing on 
the ash-pan, peering anxiously ahead of him, 
while Bruce stood beside him, keeping his place 
as best he could and wondering if it could be 
possible that the horses were running away. 
Just behind them came the tender, the black 
horse and his gray mate going at full gallop 


THE THIRD ALARM 


M3 


and following in the trail of glowing cinders 
which marked the engine’s course. Drivers 
and foot passengers hastened to make way for 
the firemen, so that they reached Fifth avenue 
with hardly a second’s loss of time. But just 
before they turned into the great thoroughfare 
the noise of another bell fell upon Bruce’s ears, 
and, with a roar and a rush, another engine with 
its tender close behind dashed up the avenue 
just ahead of them followed by a trail of smoke 
and red cinders. 

“Just our luck ! ” exclaimed Captain Murphy, 
as he stamped his foot impatiently, for it was 
the rival company which had passed them half 
a block ahead, and as it went by Bruce noticed 
that Captain Baker, who was standing on the 
ash-pan, waved his hand in ironical salute to 
Captain Murphy. 

“ That’s the second time they’ve got ahead 
of us in a month,” continued Captain Murphy, 
“and now they’ll get first water, for I’m afraid 
we’ll never be able to catch them.” 

Then the captain shouted some unintelligible 
order to his driver, who was urging his horses 
to even greater speed than before, in an attempt 
to pass the other machine. Standing on tip- 
toe and looking ahead it seemed to Bruce that 
they were slowly gaining on their rival, and 


144 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


that if the race were long enough they would 
inevitably catch up with it. But they were 
drawing near to the scene of the fire, and, with 
a sharp whirl, the foremost engine turned from 
the broad avenue into a side street. 

“ Hold fast ! ” shouted Captain Murphy, as 
his engine went round the corner in a way that 
nearly threw Bruce off his feet, and then, with- 
out an instant’s delay, swept on in mad pursuit 
of the other. Far ahead, the crowd could be 
seen gathering in the roadway close to a build- 
ing from which a thick column of smoke was 
ascending to the sky. Captain Baker’s engine 
still maintained the lead, and it was plain that 
unless something remarkable happened, she 
would have her stream on the fire first. 

But remarkable things sometimes do happen 
in real life, and now, just as both engines were 
slowing down, while their captains looked 
anxiously about them as if in search of some- 
thing, Bruce saw a grin of delight chase the 
clouds from Captain Murphy’s face, and then 
a sharp word of command caused the driver to 
come to a sudden stop close to the curb, and 
there stood Mr. Peter Dewsnap leaning care- 
lessly on an ash barrel and waving his hand to 
Captain Murphy. In an instant the barrel was 
lifted from the sidewalk and hurled into the 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


145 


street, and then Bruce saw to his surprise that 
it had been placed over the hydrant for which 
both captains were looking, and all at once he 
realized that Mr. Dewsnap, who was a par- 
ticular friend of Captain Murphy’s, had placed 
it there and mounted guard over it in order to 
prevent the other company from getting their 
stream on first. Captain Baker saw through 
the game, but just too late, for before he could 
reach the spot the engineer had his coupling 
attached and the men were beginning to stretch 
hose. 

“You stay with the tender until I send for 
you ! ” cried Captain Murphy, as he disap- 
peared through the crowd. 


Chapter XVII. 


I T was the first dangerous fire that Bruce had 
ever witnessed, and, having tied the horses 
to a convenient tree, he climbed up on the ten- 
der in order to get a good view of what was 
going on. 

A slight blaze had started in some cotton 
waste in a five-story brick building used for 
manufacturing purposes, and by the time the 
firemen arrived the smoke was pouring out of 
the upper windows in dense clouds, while the 
workmen and women were escaping, bare- 
headed, to the street, many of them coming 
through the big door on the ground floor, while 
others, in their anxiety to save themselves, 
came crashing through the lower windows and 
jumped to the sidewalk, heedless of the flying 
splinters of glass. The fire-escape, a series of 
iron balconies connected by ladders, was by 
this time crowded with frightened women mak- 
ing the best of their way to the ground, and it 
seemed to Bruce’s excited mind that the whole 
building must be full of human beings and that 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


147 


many of them would inevitably perish before aid 
could reach them. 

By this time half a dozen policemen, who 
had been summoned by the alarm, had driven 
back the rapidly gathering crowd and estab- 
lished “fire lines” about the burning building. 
Chief Trask had assumed command of all the 
operations, and the men were working rapidly 
and effectively under his orders. Familiar as 
he was with the quick methods of the depart- 
ment, Bruce was surprised to see what progress 
had been made while he was tying his horses 
and climbing up into the driver’s seat of the 
tender. The engine company had already con- 
nected their hose, stretched a suitable length 
of line and attached a brass pipe to the end of 
it, while the men from the truck had placed a 
tall ladder against the building and were pre- 
paring to ascend it. The other engine had also 
made connection with a hydrant around the 
corner, and the noise that the two machines 
made was audible over everything else. And 
now Captain Murphy gave the word of com- 
mand to his men and, with the pipe in his hand, 
entered the building, the others following, car- 
rying the hose in their arms, each man about 
twenty-five feet — half the distance between the 
joints — from the one behind him. Bruce saw 


148 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


that Tom Brophy was half way up the tall lad- 
der and was shouting to a woman who clung, 
nearly crazed with fright, to a window on the 
fourth floor. 

“Stay where you are!” yelled the fireman, 
and the woman had just sense and strength 
enough left to obey. Bruce watched him as he 
moved up the ladder. It seemed to him fully 
five minutes before he reached her, although in 
reality it was not more than five seconds. 
There was another delay then which seemed 
interminable to the excited boy, for the fireman 
before lifting the woman from her perilous 
position stopped to attach a snap hook which 
hung from a band about his waist to the rung 
of the ladder. This done, and having both 
arms free, he reached forward and lifted her in 
his strong arms. Bruce heard what sounded 
like a loud sigh of relief, and glancing up he 
found that it came from the lips of the people 
who were hanging out of every window that 
commanded a sight of the fire ; they had 
watched the unfortunate working woman as 
she clung to the window, and it was with heart- 
felt relief that they saw her safe in Brophy’ s 
arms. Bruce, too, felt a strange choking in his 
throat, and knew that the tears were beginning 
to trickle down his cheek. He was glad that 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


149 


neither Chief Trask nor Captain Murphy could 
see him then, for he felt ashamed of his weak- 
ness. 

Meantime, there arose before him what 
looked like the Eiffel Tower on a small scale ; 
it was surmounted by a pipe with a curved end, 
and as he looked a stream of water burst from 
the pipe and fell against the wall of the build- 
ing. Then the pipe moved slowly until it dis- 
charged its stream directly into an open win- 
dow, and Bruce saw that it was worked by 
means of a lever at its base, and that one of the 
men from the quarters was moving it. Not 
until that moment did he realize that what he 
saw was the water-tower which had been swiftly 
and silently erected and put in operation. 
Then other engines with their hose tenders 
came thundering down the street, for Mr. Trask 
had already rung a second alarm in view of the 
fact that the fire was likely to prove a danger- 
ous one and difficult to handle. There was 
another battalion chief on the ground also, but 
although Bruce knew that he was Mr. Trask’s 
senior in rank and years of service, he did not 
assume the command and for two reasons : the 
fire lay within the junior chief’s district, and be- 
sides the latter had been the first on the scene 
of action. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


150 

And while all this had been going on about 
him, Bruce noted everything that he saw from 
his seat on the tender, and wished that he, too, 
might do his share in the work of fighting the 
flames. So much had been accomplished before 
his eyes that he could hardly believe it possible 
that but a very few minutes had elapsed since 
his arrival on the ground. A familiar voice 
greeted him, and looking down he saw Mr. 
Peter Dewsnap standing on the sidewalk be- 
side the tender, and wiping the perspiration 
from his flushed face. 

“ So they are going to make a regular fire- 
man of you,” remarked the old gentleman, 
pleasantly. 

“I hope so,” replied the boy, as he de- 
scended from his perch. “This is the first big 
blaze I’ve seen since I came to New York. I 
noticed you standing beside that ash barrel 
when I came along.” 

“Yes,” replied Mr. Dewsnap, “that’s an old 
trick of the Volunteer Department. You see 
Captain Murphy’s a particular friend of mine, 
and when I saw the smoke I knew he would 
have hard work to get his stream on first, for 
the other house is nearer by half a block, so I 
just grabbed an ash barrel, dumped the ashes 
into the street, and clapped it over the hy- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


151 

drant ; that’s the reason that other company 
passed it, and Murphy’s men got their connec- 
tion made first. But I’m afraid this is going to 
be a very hot blaze, my boy, and they tell me 
they haven’t got all the people out of the build- 
ing yet.” 

And as he spoke the flames burst out from 
every window on the fourth floor and the heat 
became so intense that the people in the win- 
dows across the street drew back, while the 
firemen pulled their hats down over their faces 
and one or two of them deliberately soaked 
themselves with water from the hose. All this 
time streams of water from the water-tower 
and the different lines of hose had fallen upon 
the flames without making any apparent effect ; 
Bruce knew that Captain Murphy was some- 
where inside the burning building with his men 
and he wondered fearfully if they would ever 
come out alive. They were paying out more 
hose near him, and he saw what he recognized 
as a Siamese connection brought from one of 
the tenders and attached to a rubber hose of 
more than ordinary thickness. Bruce knew 
what the connection was used for, and in com- 
pany with Mr. Dewsnap, who knew almost as 
much about it as the men themselves, he crossed 
the street and watched the men as they attached 


* 5 2 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


to the joint two separate lines of hose, each 
one of which was connected with an engine. 
Ihen the signal was given and two streams of 
water were forced, each by its own engine, 
through the brass connection, or Siamese joint, 
and into the big hose, forming one stream of 
tremendous power. When this stream was 
turned on the building its effect on the flames 
was apparent at once. 

And now there were other people besides 
the firemen and Mr. Dewsnap walking about 
inside the fire lines and stepping over the 
lengths of black hose, which were curling and 
writhing about the street like so many big ser- 
pents. Standing near the corner, Bruce no^ 
ticed half a dozen well dressed young men, 
who were watching the scene carefully and from 
time to time making notes in books which they 
took from their pockets. They were the re- 
porters of the daily newspapers who had been 
sent to the scene of action as soon as the 
alarm came in. Each one wore on his breast a 
silver plated fire-badge, issued by the depart- 
ment, which gave him the right to cross the line. 
Another man who wore a similar badge and 
stood in earnest conversation with the chief, 
was, so Mr. Dewsnap said, an employee of one 
of the great electric companies. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


153 


“ And very useful those electric men are at 
a fire sometimes/' explained the old gentle- 
man. “You see these electric wires were un- 
known in my time, but now it is a very impor- 
tant matter to keep track of them at a fire 
because it is a dangerous thing to have them 
break loose and swing about while the men are 
at work. It’s death to put your finger on one 
of them ; anJ there’s no one but a regular em- 
ployee of one of the electric companies that 
can handle them with any safety. Then 
there’s that chap from the gas works ; he 
has a badge because he’s a useful man, 
too. Sometimes a stream of water thrown 
into a room will break a chandelier short 
off and then the gas escapes and there is 
liable to be an explosion when the flames 
reach it.” 

“ You’re wanted, Bruce ! ” cried a grimy fire- 
man, as he rushed up to where the boy was 
standing. 

The boy’s eyes flashed, and then he said re- 
luctantly ; “ But Captain Murphy told me to 
watch the horses.” 

“ You go along ! ” exclaimed Mr. Dewsnap, 
peremptorily, “I’ll stay by the tender until you 
come back,” and the boy darted off without 
waiting to thank him. 


154 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


Captain Murphy’s company was short handed 
and Bruce was wanted to take a length of the 
hose. The captain was just entering the build- 
ing by means of a ladder which reached to the 
third floor, and Bruce, taking his place on the 
hose, followed upwards the last of the line of 
men. The window at which the captain was 
making his entrance had received but five min- 
utes before the thick stream of water directed 
by two fire engines through the Siamese joint 
and when they stepped over the charred and 
smoking window-sill they found the room black 
with smoke, and fully six inches of water on 
the floor. It was a hard pull to get the heavy 
hose up the ladder but Bruce did his best with 
the men and followed them as they climbed 
through the window. As the water surged 
about his feet he looked at the darkness before 
him and admitted to himself that he would not 
have dared to enter that building unless the 
others had gone before him. But no thought 
of turning back entered the boy’s mind. Not 
for any reward on earth would he have dropped 
his hose and sneaked back down the ladder. 
The smoke closed around him and made his 
eyes smart so that he could not keep them open ; 
but still he kept on, unable to see the man who 
was twenty-five feet in front of him, but know- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


155 


in g by the drag on the hose that he was there. 
Where the captain was leading him or for what 
purpose he did not know. He was simply a 
soldier obeying orders. And the feeling that 
he was at last doing something as a fireman 
came upon him with a keen sense of exhilara- 
tion. 

On they went through smoke and water. 
Every moment Bruce stumbled over some box 
or piece of furniture and once he fell full length 
on the floor ; but he picked himself up, seized the 
hose, and blindly followed as it drew him across 
the room. He stumbled again, but this time it 
was not a box or a piece of furniture that his 
foot encountered but something that yielded 
as he touched it, and suggested somehow 
the horrible idea that it was a dead human 
body. Stooping down and groping with his 
hands he touched a warm human face ; and 
then, still groping and feeling with his hands, he 
found that it was the body of a boy who had 
evidently been smothered in smoke. For a 
moment Bruce stood undecided as to what 
course he should pursue. The hose was still 
traveling across the floor, at a rapid rate, and 
although he shouted to his companions he 
could hear nothing in reply. Should he follow 
them as had been ordered or should he turn 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


156 

back with the boy’s body in his arms ? All at 
once he remembered that Mr. Trask had once 
told him that a fireman’s first duty was to save 
human life — and saying to himself “ I’ll be on 
the safe side anyhow,” he lifted the inanimate 
form in his arms and slowly made his way back 
to the window by which he had entered. 

So quiet was his burden that he felt sure 
there was no more life in the frail body, but no 
sooner had he gained the fresh air, than the 
lips began to move, and a feeble movement of 
the arms told him that his efforts had not been 
in vain. Fortunately his burden was but a 
light one, and wrapping one arm tightly about 
it he managed to climb out on the ladder and 
carry it down to the street. Then without an 
instant’s hesitation he climbed up the ladder 
again and began to follow the line of hose, 
which was still moving as swiftly as before. 
But he had not gone far before a great flash 
of light lit up the room in which he was, and 
then it seemed to him as if the building shook 
beneath his feet. Looking behind him he saw a 
great wall of solid flame rise up from the floor. 
The hose was still moving through his hand, 
and with one look‘behind, he plunged bravely 
into the dark smoke that lay before him. 



« He managed to climb out on the ladder and carry it down 
to the street .” — Page 1 56. 



Chapter XVIII. 


DRUCE DECKER was grit clear through, 

' but all at once there came into his mind 
the thought of his father and of the great fire in 
which he had lost his life. He had gone in 
among the smoke and the flame on that fate- 
ful day with a length of hose under his arm, 
and he had never come out. For one brief 
moment his son wondered if he too were 
doomed to perish in a like manner. Then, by 
a strong effort of will, he drove the thought 
from his mind, and the bright face of Laura 
Van Kuren came up before him and nerved him 
to do his best. 

Taking a tight grip on the hose, which 
quivered like a thing of life as the swift stream 
of water rushed through it, the boy stumbled 
blindly on through the heavy smoke. He 
could see nothing, for, with his lack of expe- 
rience, he did not know, as the older firemen 
did, how to protect his eyes. He had lost his 
cap, too, and a hot cinder falling on his 
head made him wish that he had on one of the 
heavy fireman’s caps which he used to think so 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


* 5 * 

cumbrous. He made no pretense of dragging 
the hose now. It was dragging him, and he 
had not gone far before he was thrown with 
sudden force against some obstruction, and 
fell at full length on a narrow flight of stairs. 
As he struggled to his feet he heard the 
hoarse word of command somewhere above 
him, and the hose came to a standstill. The 
men had made their way through the room 
and upstairs to the floor above. He could hear 
them plainly, tramping about and shouting in 
the darkness. He could hear the hissing of the 
flames, too, as the water fell upon them, and 
already there was a thick stream flowing in a 
series of miniature cascades down the narrow 
flight of steps. 

There was nothing for him to do now but 
follow on, until he reached his old place twenty- 
five feet behind the man in front of him, and 
so he groped his way up the steps, and crawl- 
ing on all fours with the hose under him, fol- 
lowed the long, black, quivering trail until he 
could see dimly the forms of the other men- 
Then he stopped, and, not knowing what else 
to do, lifted the line from the floor, and stood 
with it under his arm awaiting further orders. 

By this time the well directed streams from with- 
out and within the building had had their effect 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


159 


on the flames, and a strong wind, entering 
through the windows which had been broken 
by the firemen, was driving out the black clouds 
of smoke, and leaving a purer and clearer 
atmosphere in their stead. This enabled him to 
see the group of men who stood about twenty 
feet in front of him, with the captain among 
them, and the water still rushing from the brass 
pipe which he held in his hand. Then there 
was another sharp order, the captain moved on 
and the men, gathering up the slack hose, fol- 
lowed in a long line as before, with Bruce 
at the rear. Through an open window they 
went, one after another, still carrying the hose, 
and dropping on a tin roof beneath them. 

“ Let the last man stand in the window and 
look out for the hose !” was the order given in 
stentorian tones that reached Bruce’s ear as the 
men climbed, one after another, into a window 
that opened out on a roof just opposite him. 

“Aye, aye, sir,’’ he shouted in reply, as he 
took up his position just inside the open win- 
dow, and, by the exercise of every particle of 
his strength, managed to keep the hose from 
being injured by nails or sudden jets of flames 
as it was dragged rapidly across the sill. He 
saw the other men appear at a window above 
the one they had entered, and lift the hose up 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


160 


to it by means of a piece of rope. Then they 
disappeared, the hose moving after them for a 
few minutes, when it stopped and remained 
suspended from one window to the other about 
six feet above the low tin roof over which the 
captain and his men had passed. 

Then, for the first time since the Captain had 
thundered back his order, Bruce looked about 
him and was dimayed to find the smoke pour- 
ing up the staircase in much denser and blacker 
clouds than before, filling the room so as to 
completely shut out every thing from his sight, 
and pouring out of the upper part of the win- 
dow by which he stood, in a dark stream, 
which was growing thicker and darker every 
moment. A little gust of wind swept some of 
the smoke into his face and made him turn, 
gasping and with smarting eyes, to the fresh air. 

Leaning far out across the window ledge, 
he gazed at the opposite window to which the 
hose led, and called aloud to Captain Murphy. 
But no reply was wafted back to him from the 
smoke and the flames, and the horrible thought 
came across him that perhaps his mates had 
forgotten him. But with characteristic pluck 
and self-reliance, he fought back the idea 
before it had fairly taken lodgment in his brain, 
and turned his attention to making a careful sur- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 161 

vey of his surroundings. Behind him was a 
great room that was so filled with a dense, 
black smoke that it would be impossible, if the 
worst came to the worst, for him to cross it and 
make his way down the narrow staircase. And 
even if he did find the staircase and descended 
in safety, what would he find at the foot of it ? 
He was likely to find the lower floors all ablaze 
and ready to collapse as he walked across them. 
Then he looked down at the tin roof beneath 
the window, and saw that in two or three places 
the metal had melted, and thin jets of flame 
were beginning to burst through. 

That his life was in extreme peril he could 
no longer doubt, and that there was still a 
chance of saving it by deserting his post he 
well knew. He could leap down, make a dash 
for it across the roof and through the window 
and easily find the others by simply following 
the line of the hose, and for a moment he stood 
irresolutely with one leg thrown across the 
ledge and the other foot resting across the 
floor. But he did not hesitate long; he had 
been told to remain at the window, and what 
would Captain Murphy and Chief Trask think 
of a boy who had lost his head and disobeyed 
orders the very first time he was assigned to 
a n important and dangerous duty ? It might 


162 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


be, after all, that the danger was not as great as 
he imagined, and he comforted himself with that 
assurance, at the same time carefully nourishing 
his faith in Captain Murphy, who would not, he 
was positive, go off and leave his youngest 
subordinate to face death alone. 

There was nothing dramatic or imaginative 
about the hero of this story ; he was simply a 
plain, straightforward, courageous American 
boy, who could always be depended upon to 
act rather than to talk or pose. And in this 
moment of supreme danger it did not occur to 
him that his position between the black smoke 
that was rolling up behind him and the red 
flames that were bursting out before and under 
his very eyes, was an unusual or heroic one. 
It had been his ambition ever since his arrival 
in New York to take an active part in the work 
of the fire department, and now for the first 
time he had realized his ambition and had an 
opportunity, if not to distinguish himself, at 
least to show what sort of stuff he was made 
of. 

It was an opportunity in which he gloried, 
with a sense of exaltation such as he had sel- 
dom known in the whole course of his life, and 
he resolved then and there that neither smoke 
nor flames should drive him from his post un- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


163 


less he first received orders from his superior 
officers. 

And it happened that just as he uttered this 
resolution to himself Captain Murphy, working 
with his men in the other building to which the 
hose was stretched, exclaimed: “What’s be- 
come of that boy Decker ? Has anything hap- 
pened to him ? ” 

Then he remembered that he himself had 
ordered Bruce to remain at the window, and 
knowing the lad’s firmness of character and 
tenacity, the thought occurred to him that pos- 
sibly he was still there, waiting further orders, 
although when he gave his command he had 
only intended to have him remain there so long 
as the line was moving. Handing the brass 
pipe to one of his men the captain dashed 
across the floor, looked through the window 
and saw Bruce with his jacket tied around his 
head, lying with his body stretched half way 
across the sill. 

“ Come over here quick ! ” he yelled, and 
Bruce, only too glad to obey, leaped down to 
the roof and started across. But to his horror 
he felt the hot metal sagging beneath his feet 
like thin ice after a February thaw. The 
flames were bursting out in a dozen places, 
and by this time the captain realized the dan- 


164 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


ger and called to him to make haste. Above his 
head swung the hose, and ten feet further, pro- 
vided the roof held up, would bring him to a 
point where it sagged so low as to be within 
his reach. He was just in time, for as he 
caught it a great sheet of flame burst up in ex- 
actly the place across which he had passed, and 
then a portion of the roof went down in front 
of him and a cloud of smoke and cinders, inter- 
spersed with darting tongues of flame, rose up 
and shut out Captain Murphy from his sight. 

With the agility of a cat the boy swung him- 
self up on the line, wound his jacket still more 
closely about his head, and, encouraged by the 
shouts of the officer whom he could no longer 
see, started to crawl along his frail bridge 
through the thick curtain of smoke and fire. 
The heat was awful, his clothing was afire in 
half a dozen places, and he knew that the hose 
could not hold out much longer against the 
flames. At one time it seemed as if he could 
go no further, but must let go and drop into 
the fiery chasm beneath him. Then by a final 
effort he called to his aid all his reserve force 
of courage, obstinacy and determination, 
crawled blindly along the line, found himself in 
a clearer and cooler air, heard the captain’s 
voice close to him, and then a strong hand 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


165 

clutched him by the shoulder and dragged him 
through the window. 

And just at that moment the hose yielded to 
the intense heat and burst, discharging a stream 
of water into the flames beneath. The end to 
which Bruce still clung as the captain dragged 
him through the window hung down like 
a lifeless thing, but the other end was 
thrashing about like a wounded serpent, 
and hurling thick streams of water in every 
direction. 

Once inside the window the boy collapsed 
altogether and fell upon the floor, but Captain 
Murphy lifted him up as if he had been a baby 
and bore him rapidly to a window on the other 
side of the building from which he took him, by 
means of a thirty-five foot ladder, to the street 
below, placed him tenderly on the sidewalk, 
and then returned to his post as a familiar voice 
exclaimed : “ I’ll look after the lad.” 

It was Peter Dewsnap who bent down over 
the blackened and apparently lifeless form of 
the boy as he lay on the pavement, and, as the 
old gentleman raised his head after listening a 
moment at the lad’s left side, he said : 

“ Thank God, he is alive, but there’s no tell- 
ing how badly he’s hurt. Have you rung for 
an ambulance? ” 


i66 


THE THIRD ALARM 


Yes, that had been done already, and in a 
few minutes the vehicle, with its uniformed 
driver and surgeon and its sharp clanging bell, 
was making its way through the crowd, which 
by this time had reached enormous proportions. 
It drew up near the curbstone, the surgeon 
leaped to the ground and knelt down beside 
the unconscious boy. Mr. Dewsnap was sit- 
ting in the gutter beside him, regardless of his 
fine clothes, and briskly rubbing his hands in 
the hope of restoring the circulation. Chief 
Trask, who had lingered a moment to assure 
himself that the lad was still alive, had returned 
to his duties, but the reporters had gathered 
about and, in a quick, business-like way, were 
questioning Mr. Dewsnap and the surgeon. 

“ Does anybody know the boy’s name or how 
he happened to get hurt ? ” asked a pleasant 
faced young chap, who had a note-book and 
pencil in his hand. 

“ Bruce Decker is his name,” replied the old 
gentleman, “and he’s not regularly in the de- 
partment but helps the chief down at head- 
quarters. Why, his father was killed in that 
Broadway apartment house fire some time 

ago.” 

“I remember all about it,” rejoined the 
young man, and then turning to his compan- 


THE THIRD Al/rM. 167 

ions, he said : “ Don’t you remember that Frank 
Decker, the fireman who was lost when that 
apartment house burned down ? I covered 
that fire and I remember all about it.” 

“Just give me a hand, will you, I think I’ll 
take this young man right up to the hospital,” 
said the surgeon, who had been making a 
superficial examination of Bruce’s injuries. “ I 
took a young kid up there from this very fire 
half an hour ago.” 

Then, with Mr. Dewsnap’s assistance, he de- 
posited Bruce on the spring mattress inside the 
ambulance, resumed his seat behind him and 
told the driver to go on. 

Mr. Dewsnap stood watching the departing 
vehicle with an anxious, troubled face and then, 
turning to the reporter with whom he had 
spoken before, he said: “That young lad 
whom they have just carried off is the worthy 
son of a good father, and if it hadn’t been for 
him, that other boy that the surgeon spoke of 
wouldn’t have been saved. He found him lying 
on the floor up there, and I myself saw him 
carry him down the ladder and then go right 
back to his work again. That’s a pretty good 
record for a boy to make at his first fire, isn’t it.” 

The reporters listened attentively to what 
Mr. Dewsnap said, and made frequent entries 


1 68 • 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


in their note-books. Most of them knew the 
old gentleman as a fire-crank, frequently en- 
countered at fires, and one who was always 
ready to furnish them with any information they 
required. It was he to whom they usually went 
if any one was hurt, for he knew the names and 
histories of all the important men in the depart- 
ment as well as those of the subordinate firemen 
employed in Chief Trask’s battalion, in which he 
claimed a sort of honorary membership. 


Chapter XIX. 


ORUCE awoke at a very early hour in the 
-D morning and found himself in a clean, 
white, comfortable bed, which was not his own. 
His eyes were dim and there was a soreness 
in his lungs when he tried to breathe. He 
was conscious, moreover, of dull pains in his 
arms and legs, and he felt as weak as if he had 
just recovered from a long fit of illness. He 
did not know where he was and he did not 
care, his only wish being to lie perfectly quiet 
and if possible to go to sleep sgain. He closed 
his eyes for a moment or two and then his 
natural instincts seemed to return, so he opened 
them again and stared curiously about him. 
He was in a long, high room, with plenty of 
light and air in it and a row of tall windows 
stretching along one side of it. There were 
other cots similar to his own in the room, and 
each one had its occupant. 

For some time he rested quietly on his back, 
moving his head slightly, from time to time, in 
order to see everything in the room and won- 
dering the while, whether he were asleep or 


170 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


awake. Then an indistinct remembrance of 
the exciting events of the day before returned 
to him, and it seemed as if he were still breath- 
ing the hot smoke which had filled the burning 
building. 

“ How do you feel this morning? ” 

These words were uttered in a soft, womanly 
voice, and on turning his head, he saw standing 
by his bedside one of the prettiest young ladies 
he had ever seen. Her dress was of a quiet 
Scotch plaid, and she wore over her dark hair 
a most becoming little white cap, of a style that 
was perfectly new to him. 

“I feel queer,” was his simple answer and 
then he asked, with a faint show of interest : 
“ How did I get here, and where am I ? ” 

“ You’re in good hands and you’ll soon be 
well again, Bruce, but you must be careful not 
to move about too much in your bed or to worry 
yourself unnecessarily,” was the young lady’s 
reply, but although it was uttered in the gen- 
tlest and most reassuring tones, he could not 
help noticing its evasive nature, so he repeated 
his question, “ Where am I ? ” 

“You’re in an hospital, and you must stay 
here until you are well enough to go out 
again,” said the young lady, and then as she 
saw a look of dismay coming to the boy’s face, 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


171 

she continued, “ But you needn’t be afraid, for 
it is a very nice hospital, indeed, and you will 
have everything that is good for you, and I am 
sure that you will get well very fast. Now 
shut your eyes again and try to go to sleep, 
and by and by I will bring you some breakfast.” 

The young lady with the white cap inspired 
so much confidence in the young boy that 
he dismissed all anxiety and curiosity from his 
mind, closed his eyes and was soon in a deep 
sleep, from which he did not awaken until 
nearly all the rest of the sleepers in the big 
room were either sitting up in bed or dressed 
and walking about. He felt much more re- 
freshed now, and as he stared about him, he 
wondered what had become of the young lady, 
and how soon she would bring his breakfast to 
him. 

“ Hay, boss, wot place is dis ? ” said a piping 
voice close beside him, and as Bruce turned his 
head, he saw in the cot next to his a face that 
seemed familiar, and was connected in his mind 
in some way with the fire and smoke and excite- 
ment of the day before. It was the face of a 
boy, and a very homely little boy at that. It 
was a boy with a freckled face, turned up nose, 
and a pair of sharp, small, blue eyes, which 
looked at him from under a thick mat of coarse 


172 


THE THIRD ALARM \ 


red hair which hung down over his forehead in 
rebellious locks, and added measurably to the 
foxy expression of his face. 

“Who are you, anyhow? ” demanded Bruce. 

“I’m Skinny de Swiper, an’ I’d like ter know 
wot dey brung me here fer.” 

“ I’m sure I don’t know,” said the other, and 
then he added with a smile “ I don’t even know 
what I’m doing here myself, but where do you 
come from ? Where do you live when you’re 
home ? ” 

“ Sometimes one place, and sometimes anud- 
der ; last week I got a job in a factory over in 
18 th Street, but dere was a fire dere, an’ I 
guess I muster got burned up. I kin just 
remember a bloke collarin’ me an’ and trow- 
in’ me down a ladder ; he muster been a fire- 
man.” 

The boy’s simple explanation cleared some 
of the cobwebs out of Bruce’s mind, and he 
suddenly recalled his entrance, with the hose 
under his arm, into the burning building and 
the boy whom he had dragged through the 
window and down the ladder to the street. 
“I guess,” he remarked, “that I’m the bloke 
that carried you out.” 

“ Come off ! ” said the boy in a tone of min- 
gled scorn and incredulity, “dere ain’t no kids 


THE THIRD ALARM 


173 


like you in de fire department, an’ I guess I’d 
oughter know.” 

“Very well then,” replied Bruce, annoyed at 
the other’s contemptuous words, “maybe I’m 
not in the department, but I helped to put that 
fire out all the same. If I hadn’t I wouldn’t be 
here now.” 

He would have said more if he had not been 
interrupted by the young lady with the white 
cap, who came up to him at this moment in com- 
pany with another young lady dressed exactly 
like herself and with the same gentle manner 
and soft voice. The second young lady was 
the day-nurse and the other nurse was telling 
her about the cases that had been brought into 
the ward during the night. In a few words she 
explained the injuries which the two boys were 
suffering from and then asked them if they 
would like something to eat. They were both 
hungry and in a few minutes a tray with coffee, 
toast, and an egg was placed on each bed. 
Skinny ate his breakfast without any assistance, 
but Bruce had to be helped by the day-nurse, 
a process which he did not object to in the 
slightest degree. As he ate he noticed half a 
dozen other patients who were also breakfast- 
ing in bed while others were walking about the 
ward, or sitting in reclining chairs, reading or 


174 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


talking with one another. Some of these had 
crutches with them, while others wore bandages 
or limped along with the aid of canes. Bruce, 
looked all around him in a vain search for some 
well man, and then innocently asked the nurse 
how it happened that everybody in the room 
seemed to be lame or disabled in some way. 
The nurse smiled at his simplicity and then re- 
plied : “They’re brought here because they are 
disabled, for this is a hospital, where broken 
limbs are set and the sick made well again. 
You’ll have to stay here until you are cured ; 
and if you lie quiet now, in a few days you 
will be able to walk about like the others you 
see there.” 

Then, having advised the young sufferer not 
to talk or exert himself in any way, she departed 
with the breakfast tray and Bruce, fatigued by 
the slight exertion of eating, closed his eyes 
and was soon sound asleep. 

It was after ten o’clock when he awoke sud- 
denly and found the nurse and two or three 
gentlemen standing at the foot of his bed. 
One of these gentlemen had a long white 
beard, gold spectacles, and an exceedingly bene- 
volent air. 

“And so this is the brave little fire-lad, is 
it? ” he remarked, with a very kindly smile, as 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


*75 


the nurse whispered something in his ear, and 
in another moment a tall, white screen was 
placed about the bed, the blanket and sheet 
drawn up and then Bruce felt shooting pains 
through his right leg as the head surgeon and 
his assistants removed the bandages to see how 
his wounds were getting on. He fully believed 
that they were cutting his leg off, and after a 
pain a little sharper than the others he asked, 
“ isn’t it most off yet ? ” 

They all smiled at his words and the old 
gentleman answered in reassuring tones, “ no, 
my son, that leg of yours will be as good as 
ever in three weeks and you’ll live to be a first 
class fireman yet or I’m very much mistaken.” 

Then the bandages were quickly replaced, 
the bed-clothing drawn up, and, when the at- 
tendant had removed the screen, Bruce saw the 
physicians gathered around Skinny the Swiper. 
The boy set his teeth hard, but uttered no 
sound, as the bandages were taken from his 
arm and shoulder and fresh liniment applied to 
the wounded parts. Bruce could see him 
watching the faces of the doctors with sharp, 
eager eyes, very much as a squirrel might regard 
any object in which it had some special interest; 
but nevertheless he did not ask a single ques- 
tion or utter the slightest moan, although once 


176 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


his face turned white with pain and the doctor, 
knowing that the boy was suffering, remarked in 
his gentle, professional voice, “one moment 
more, my boy, and it will be all over. There, now, 
we 11 put the bandages on again and the pain 
will soon go.” Then the doctors continued 
their tour of the ward, and, as soon as they 
were out of hearing, Skinny turned to Bruce 
and said, “maybe dat didn’t hurt when der 
bloke pulled dem rags off.” 

“ Look here ! ” returned the other, “ if you 
don’t think I’m the fireman that carried you out 
of that building, you’d better ask that tall gen- 
tleman with the white whiskers ; he knew who 
I was, the minute he saw me and didn’t wait to 
be introduced either.” 

“Say boss, is dat on de level?” asked the 
boy as he raised his head slightly from his pillow 
and fixed his eyes with the same sharp, search- 
ing, squirrel look on Bruce’s face. 

“It is,” said the other. 

For a few moments, the boy who had grown 
up in the streets continued to regard the one 
who had saved his life with a fixed, eager look, 
but he said nothing. There were undoubtedly 
things in his mind that he wanted to say, but 
for the utterance of which his vocabulary was 
totally inadequate. So he said nothing but 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


177 


“hully gee ! ” which might have been taken to 
mean almost anything, but which Skinny the 
Swiper intended as an expression of gratitude, 
admiration, and esteem combined with a solemn 
oath of loyalty, all condensed into two words, 
neither one of which can be found in Webster’s 
dictionary. 

But Bruce had had experience enough with 
the boys who swarmed about the door of the 
quarters to know what Skinny meant, and to 
him the slangy phrase passed for part at least 
of what the younger lad had wished to express. 
He said nothing more, but closed his , eyes, 
which were still red and sore, and when he 
opened them again a few minutes later, the 
doctors had departed, half a dozen visitors were 
in the ward, and John Trask was standing be- 
side his bed and calling him by name. 


Chapter XX. 


N OW it so happened that at the very moment 
when Bruce was lying on his back in a 
ward of the New York hospital, a very pretty 
young girl, whose name might have been on 
his lips at that painful point of his career, was 
walking along a shady garden path, with her 
arms about the waist of a young girl of her 
own age and equally pretty. One of these 
young girls, as the least intelligent of my 
readers may guess, was Laura Van Kuren ; the 
other was her particular friend, Kitty Harriott. 
As they walked they turned their heads toward 
one another and seemed engrossed in an eager 
conversation. 

“ Hush ! ” exclaimed Kitty, as she laid a 
warning hand on her friend’s arm. “ Harry 
might be around somewhere, and I wouldn’t 
have him hear us for the world.” 

“ Harry’s up stairs finishing his lessons, so 
you’ll have to put up with me until Mr. Reed 
lets him loose. He got kept in to-day as 
usual, but I dare say if he knew you were here 
he’d climb out of the window and come down 
into the garden as he did last week.” 


*78 


THE 7 HIED ALARM . 


*79 


Kitty colored slightly at Laura’s words, and 
then observed with a show of carelessness, “ I’m 
sure it’s a matter of perfect indifference to me 
whether I see him or not. Boys are nuisances 
anyway, and besides I wouldn’t have him hear 
what we’re saying for all the money in the world.” 

What Laura and Kitty were talking about 
will probably never be known, at any rate it 
does not materially concern the readers of this 
book. They were discussing some affairs of 
their own, and there are no secrets or mysteries 
in the world which are invested with the 
solemn importance that young girls of fourteen 
or fifteen bestow upon those which they whisper 
about as they walk through a garden arm and 
arm, and with heads bent close logether. They 
were so absorbed in their talk that they were 
startled to hear a familiar voice calling to them 
from one of the upper windows of the house, 
and they looked up to see Harry climb over 
the sill and then descend like a young monkey 
to the ground, by means of the wisteria vine, to 
the great terror of Kitty, who had no brothers of 
her own and who fairly screamed with fright 
when Harry pretended to miss his hold of the 
vine, dropped two or three feet and then caught 
himself cleverly and slid down the rest of the 
way, with ease and rapidity. 


180 THE THIRD ALARM . 

“Mercy!” cried Kitty to Laura who had 
watched her brother with apparent indifference, 
“ I don’t see how you can stand there like that 
and look at him. Suppose he should fall and 
break his head, how would you feel then ? ” 

“ Pshaw ! ” exclaimed Laura carelessly, “he 
only does that to show off because you’re here. 
I knew he’d be out here the minute he caught 
sight of us. Got your lessons yet, Harry?” 
she continued, addressing herself to her brother 
as he joined them. 

“ Bother the lessons ! ” was the boy’s reply, 
“ I’ve got something a great deal more interest- 
ing, that I might tell you about if I wanted to. 
It’s something that you, particularly, Miss 
Laura, would be glad to know.” 

“Well, what is it ?” asked his sister indif- 
ferently, “is it anything very important ? ” 

“ Important enough to be in the newspaper 
and for me to go right down town to see about 
it, ’’rejoined her brother. 

“ Tell me, what it is, Harry, won’t you 
please ? ” said Kitty, in the pleading way 
which she knew he could not resist, and in 
reply Harry produced a copy of the New York 
Herald , which he had been hiding behind his 
back, carefully folded it, and then, holding it in 
front of the young girls’ faces, permitted them 


THE THIRD ALARM. 181 

to read a single sentence before he snatched 
the paper away again. What they read was : 
“The name of the injured fireman is Bruce 
Decker. He was removed to the New York 
hospital, where he now lies in a precarious con- 
dition.” 

Kitty turned toward Laura, whose face was 
white and whose teeth were tightly clinched. 
“Isn’t it dreadful ? ” she cried, as she threw her 
arm about her friend’s waist. 

“ Let me see the rest of it, Harry ! ” cried 
Laura, imperiously, trying to take the paper 
from her brother’s hand. 

“No, you don’t ! ” cried the boy, resolutely, 
as he held the Herald out of her reach, “ not 
until you find that ball of mine you said you 
lost yesterday.” 

“ Harry ! ” called a stern voice near them, 
and the boy turned sharply round to find his 
tutor, Mr. Reed, advancing rapidly toward him. 
“Go back to your room at once, Harry!” 
said Mr. Reed, sternly ; and before the boy 
could reply his sister tore the paper from his 
grasp and ran off with it at the top of her 
speed. 

“ Come back with that ! ” cried her brother, 
as he started in pursuit, but the angry voice of 
his tutor recalled him before he had gone 


182 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


twenty paces, and he marched into the house 
very red in the face, and casting angry glances 
behind him at the two girls, who were now sit- 
ting in the summer-house, eagerly reading the 
long account of the fire at which Bruce had so 
nearly lost his life. When they had finished it 
Laura drew a long breath, and then burst into 
tears. 

“ Don’t cry, dear,” said Kitty, as she wiped a 
tear or two from her own face, “I’m sure he’s 
not badly hurt and will be all right again in a 
very few days.” 

“ It would be dreadful if he were to die with- 
out ever finding out the mystery of his birth,” 
wailed Laura. “ Oh, dear, if I only knew 
where to find him I would write him a letter or 
go down to see him.” 

“The paper says he’s at the New York hos- 
pital,” said Kitty. “Why don’t you go down 
there this very day ? I think it would be just 
too romantic and interesting for words.” 

Laura sprang to her feet and wiped the tears 
from her eyes with a swift movement of her 
hand. “I’ll do it,” she said. “I’ll find out 
where the New York hospital is and how to 
get there, and I’ll start this very minute. 
Harry thought he was so smart because he 
read it in the paper first, and was going down 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


183 


there himself all so bold and gay, but he’ll find 
out when he does get there that I’ve been 
there before him.” 

Kitty’s face flushed with excitement. She 
thought it the most romantic thing in the world 
that Laura should run the risk of displeasing 
her father by making a long journey all by her- 
self to an unknown part of the town simply to 
sit by the bedside of a daring young fireman 
who had been injured while going into a burn- 
ing building to save a human life. The paper 
said that he was lying in a “precarious condi- 
tion,” but neither one of the two girls knew 
what that long word signified, and they did not 
dare to ask anyone. 

“ Come up to my room with me, I’m going 
to get ready now,” said Laura, as she led the 
way into the house. 

A quarter of an hour later Harry, who was 
moodily poring over his Latin grammar and 
wondering whether Bruce had been severely 
hurt or not, saw from his seat by the window 
the two girls crossing the garden and disap- 
pearing through a side gate. He wondered idly 
where they were going to, and then he fell to 
thinking about how to get even with his sister for 
the trick she had played him that morning, and 
he was engaged in this manner when Mr. Reed 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


1S4 

suddenly entered the room and asked him what 
progress he was making with his lessons, The 
boy took up his book again with a sigh that 
was so deep that the tutor asked him if he was 
sick or if anything serious had happened. 

‘‘No,” he replied, “nothing has happened to 
me, but I’m afraid something awful has hap- 
pened to Bruce.” And then he told the tutor 
what he had read in the Herald , and Mr. Reed 
becoming very much interested went out and 
found the paper where the young girls had 
dropped it in the summer house, and then re- 
turned to his pupil’s room and said, “ I’m afraid 
he’s badly injured and I’m very sorry for it, for 
he was a very manly, polite young man, and I 
should judge from the account in the news- 
paper that he had showed himself to be a brave 
one as well. I really think you ought to go 
down to the hospital and see how he is getting 
along.” 

Harry leaped to his feet, but Mr. Reed re- 
strained him by saying firmly, “ not until your 
lessons are finished. If you can recite them to 
me within an hour, we will start at once.” 

With this incentive to work, Harry returned 
to his task with such industry and enthusiam, 
that when his tutor returned at the close of the 
hour he found his pupil able to recite his les- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


i85 

sons without a single mistake, which was alto- 
gether an unusual condition of things with him. 
Then putting on his hat, Mr. Reed told Harry 
to accompany him and they started for the 
elevated railroad together. 


Chapter XXI. 


< c T >LL not shake hands with you, Bruce, but 
1 I’d like too, and so would all the men at 
the quarters,” was Mr. Trask’s greeting as he 
seated himself beside the bed of the injured 
boy. I don’t think that arm of yours will stand 
much shaking for some weeks to come, but 
we’re all proud of you nevertheless.” The 
boy’s face flushed with pleasure, and his eyes 
grew dim for the chief had never spoken to 
him in such a strain before, and besides he had 
fancied for a month or two past that his super- 
ior rather looked down upon him as a boy who 
was good for nothing except to bed down 
horses and make himself generally useful about 
the quarters. To be sure he did not quite 
understand why Mr. Trask should say that all 
the men wanted to shake hands with him, for 
he had but a hazy remembrance of the events 
of the previous day, and did not know that his 
name had been published in the papers with an 
account of his bravery in saving a boy's life. 
He did not know what to say, so he simply re- 
marked, ‘ thank you sir.” 


i86 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


187 


The chief was silent for a moment and then 
went on, “well I suppose you’ve had enough of 
the fire department by this time, but when you 
get well I’ll see to it that you don’t lose any- 
thing by what you did yesterday. I had a talk 
with Mr. Dewsnap, and he’ll find a good posi- 
tion somewhere in case you don’t want to come 
back to the quarters again.” 

Bruce’s lips quivered and an expression of 
dismay came into his face : ” What !” he 

cried piteously, “leave the department the 
minute I begin to like it ! Why, chief, what 
have I done that you should want to treat 
me in that way ?” 

“ Then you’re not scared of the service by 
finding yourself laid up in a hospital, are you ?” 
said the chief inquiringly. 

“ Scared out of it ?” echoed the boy, “ Why 
should I be scared out of it ? I don’t remember 
everything that happened yesterday but I 
know that fire was the grandest thing I was 
ever at in my life. Why, I wouldn’t take all the 
money in the world for my experience yesterday. 

I used to hear my father tell about fires, and 
going into burning buildings and up on the 
tops of high roofs but I never had any idea ci 
what the service really was until I found my- 
self following the men with that big, cold, 


i88 


THE THIRD ALARM 


clammy hose in my hand. Please Chief Trask, 
let me stay at the quarters. I’ll do anything 
you want, if you’ll only let me go to fires with 
the men.” 

“That’s right, my boy!” cried the chief 
heartily. “I like to you talk that way. 
I’ve been thinking lor some time past that you 
were getting tired of the monotony of the thing 
and were looking out for a chance to better 
yourself, and then when you got hurt yester- 
day, I was afraid it had taken all the ambition 
out of you, But don’t be afraid, you can stay 
with us as long as you like, and as soon as 
you’re well again, I’ll see to it that you go out 
on the truck along with the rest of the men. 

“That’s all I ask for, Chief,” said Bruce, 
eagerly, trying to raise his head from the pillow 
as he spoke, and then letting it fall again from 
sheer weakness. “ The work was getting 
rather tiresome down there and I hated to be 
left alone when all the men were away at fires. 
But if you’ll only let me go with them, I won’t 
ask anything more of you.” 

Then Chief Trask went away promising 
to come again soon, and Skinny, who had 
watched him closely through his small squirrel 
eyes, now turned and said : “ Hay boss, dat 
was de chief of de bat’lion, I’ve seen him lots 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


189 


of times.” And it was evident from the boy’s 
manner that he regarded his friend and pre- 
server with much greater respect than before. 

A church clock in the neighborhood had just 
finished striking eleven, when Miss Ingraham the 
day nurse, came to Bruce’s bedside and said, 
“There’s a young lady down stairs who wishes 
to see you ; do you feel well enough to talk 
any more ?” 

A young lady to see him ! Bruce wondered, 
who could it possibly be, and then a look 
came into his face that made the young lady in 
the white cap and plaid dress smile, for she 
guessed from it that it was someone in whom 
he was deeply interested, so she simply said 
“I’ll send for her to come up,” and three min- 
utes later Bruce’s heart gave a great bound and 
then seemed to stand almost still as he saw 
Laura Van Kuren pause for a moment in the 
doorway and then walk directly towards his 
bed. 

“Bruce,” she said, as she bent down beside 
him, “are you very much hurt? Oh I was so, 
so sorry when I read in the paper that you 
were precarious, and so I came right down to 
see you.” 

Of course Bruce had not the slightest idea 
of what she meant by his being precarious, for 


190 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


he did not know that his exploit had been men- 
tioned in the papers at all, but then Laura often 
used long words which she found in her favor- 
ite books, and he had become accustomed to 
this peculiarity of hers, and seldom inquired 
what she meant when the language happened 
to seem vague and unintelligible. 

“No, I’m not badly hurt,” he answered 
cheerfully, “ but I say, though, it was splendid of 
you to come down and see me and I’m ever so 
much obliged to you. Did you come all alone ? 
Where’s Harry?” 

I came down here all alone,’’ replied the 
young girl solemnly, “ and you mustn’t tell 
Harry a word about it, because I’d get into 
awful trouble if you did. Now promise you’ll 
never say a word about it.” 

Bruce promised readily enough, and then 
Laura went on : “It would be awful if you had 
died without finding out the secret of your 
birth. Only think, you might go to Heaven 
and never know your own relations when you 
saw them there and they might be the very 
nicest people there too.” 

Bruce could not help laughing at the young 
girl’s serious manner of talking about what she 
persisted in calling the mystery of his birth. 
His mind was full of the fire department just 


Laura visits Bruce in the hospital . — Page ipO . 






THE THIRD ALARM. 


191 


then, and of the bright prospects which Chief 
Trask had opened to him by promising to allow 
him to go to all the fires just as if he were a regu- 
lar member of the company. So he told Laura 
that at that moment he had no opportunity to 
pursue the investigations in which she seemed 
to take so much interest, but he assured her 
that the moment he found himself well enough 
to leave the hospital he would continue his 
search for the tall dark man with the scar 
across his face whom they both agreed was in 
some way identified with his early life. 

At the end of fifteen minutes Laura went 
away promising to write him a letter as soon as 
possible, and leaving him with the cheering as- 
surance that Harry would be down as soon as 
he had either learned his lessons or escaped from 
his tutor. Indeed during the whole of her visit 
she was haunted by an awful fear that her 
brother had clambered down the wisteria vine 
and might enter the door at any moment. 

Harry did not appear until an hour or more 
after his sister had gone. Mr. Reed was with 
him and they had stopped to buy a basket of 
fruit as a present for the injured boy. Harry 
was overflowing with sympathy, and Mr. Reed 
was very much more cordial than he had ever 
been before. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


192 


“ I suppose,” said the tutor as he and his pupil 
were taking their leave, “that you have not 
many friends in town to come to visit.” 

“ Oh, Fve had two callers already this morn- 
ing before you came,” replied Bruce. “ Chief 
Trask came first and then — 

The boy stopped short, colored, hesitated, 
and then went on, “and there was another 
friend of mine who came. She just went away 
a little while ago.” 

Both his visitors noticed his hesitation and 
Harry wondered if it could be possible that his 
sister had been down there ahead of him, but 
he said nothing to Mr. Reed of his suspicions. 
He resolved however to get at the truth of the 
matter so that he might have something fresh 
to taunt his sister with the next time they 
quarrelled. 

It is doubtful if the whole city of New York 
contained a happier boy than the one who was 
lying, sorely wounded and with his eyes in- 
flamed and almost blinded, in a narrow white 
cot in a common hospital ward. The sun was 
shining brightly through the tall windows, and 
the distant hum and roar of the great city 
sounded faintly in his ears. He knew that it 
would be many weeks, perhaps months, before 
he could hope to resume the career which had 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


*93 


been Interrupted so suddenly the day before, 
and to a boy who had never known a day’s ill- 
ness in his life the prospect of a long, irksome 
confinement was anything but pleasant. Nev- 
ertheless, Bruce Decker felt that he had a 
great deal to make him happy just then. 

First of all he realized that he had done his 
duty in facing danger the first time that he was 
called upon, and Chief Trask’s encouraging 
words had sounded more agreeably in his ears 
than anything that he had ever heard before. 
Moreover, the fact that not only the chief but 
Harry and Laura Van Knren had come at once 
to his bedside was another reason for his con- 
tented state of mind. But beside all this the 
memory of the exciting events of the day be- 
fore filled his mind. There had come over him 
while he stood with a hose in his hand amid the 
smoke and blaze of the burning building an 
overwhelming sense of the importance and dig- 
nity of his calling, and it had seemed to him at 
that moment that he was no longer a mere boy, 
tolerated at the quarters because he could run 
errands and take care of horses, but a fireman in 
the truest sense of the word — one whose duty it 
was to go without fear wherever his chief led 
him, and to be ready, if necessary, to sacrifice 
his life (as his father had done before him) to 


194 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


save another’s. And now as he rested quietly 
in his bed the soldierly feeling had full posses- 
sion of his soul. If he had ever cherished any 
serious thought of leaving the department and 
seeking employment in some other walk of life, 
that feeling was now entirely submerged by 
one of loyal devotion to the department which 
he had served, and to which he would return as 
soon as he could leave his bed, with a steadfast 
purpose far deeper than the enthusiasm which 
had influenced him before. 

Taking all these things into consideration, it 
is not to be wondered at that a right-minded, 
brave young lad like Bruce Decker should 
have been positively happy in spite of his hurts 
as he lay there, one of twenty-four patients in 
the casualty ward. But although he did not 
know it, he had another reason for thankful- 
ness, for he had attached to himself a new 
friend — a friend who was bound to prove of in- 
finite service to him in untangling some of the 
threads which had caused him so much anxious 
thought of late. That new friend was lying in 
the cot next to him, silently watching him 
through a pair of sharp blue eyes. 

Skinny the Swiper was a child of the New 
York streets, one of those boys who could not 
remember having had any home or kindred, 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


*95 


and who, from his earliest recollection, had been 
living as best he could by selling papers, black- 
ing boots, or doing anything that he could turn 
his hand to. His wits, naturally sharp, had 
been developed to a remarkable degree of pre- 
cocity by his rough contact with the world until 
they had made him more than a match for any 
of the lads with whom he consorted. He had 
known very little kindness in his dozen years 
of life, and possibly it was for that reason that 
his heart went out in gratitude to the boy who 
had saved him, but Skinny was a lad of few 
words, and although he looked searchingly 
at the other and probably thought a great 
deal, it was not until late in the after- 
noon that he ventured to speak of what 
was uppermost in his thoughts. Then he 
raised himself slightly on his elbow and 
said : “ Hay, boss, I seen dat young lady be- 
fore, onct.” 

Bruce did not like the idea of discussing 
such a superior being as Laura Van Kuren 
with a grimy little boy of the streets, 
and besides he did not believe that Skinny 
had ever seen her, so he answered rather 
curtly, “No, I guess you’re mistaken ; that 
young lady doesn’t live in the same street with 
you.'* 


196 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“Who said she did?” demanded the boy. 
“ But I seen her all de same. Besides I don’t 
live in no street at all.” 

“Well, where did you see her then ? ” 

“I seen her way up near de Harlem. Her 
folks has got a big house dere, an’ one day 
when l was walkin’ by I stopped ter look 
troo de railin’ and she come up and gimme 
some grapes. She’s a jim dandy, dat young 
lady is.” 

“ But how came you away up there ? ” in- 
quired Bruce, in some amazement. 

“ I went up dere fer a man wot useter git 
me to run errands onct in a while, and dat’s de 
way I seen her,” replied Skinny. 

“ What sort of errands did you have to do 
up there ? I should think that would be pretty 
far out of your beat,” continued Bruce, with an 
idle curiosity to learn something of his new 
friend. 

“ Oh ! I went up dere lots o’ times on 
most partick’ler business,” responded Skinny. 
“ Dere was a bloke useter send me ter carry 
letters to a big house dat had evergreens in 
front of it and a porch over de door. Deres 
was an’ old gent lived dere, but now he’s 
gone ter Yurrup or Africky or some place or 
nudder.” 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


*97 


And now it was Bruce’s turn to be interested. 
“ Was there a side door to the house, with vines 
hanging over it ? ” he asked. 

“Cert,” replied Skinny, “an’ an old gent 
dat giv me a quarter two or tree times. An’ 
twict he sent me in de kitchen an’ de lady wot 
cooked dere gimme a steak an’ pertaters an’ 
coffee. Dey never watched me needer, an’ I 
mighter swiped some spoons on’y dey used me 
so white.” 

Bruce’s head, which had been lilted slightly 
from the pillow during this conversation, now 
fell back from sheer weariness, and for a few 
moments the boy remained absolutely quiet, 
wondering if it could be possible that he had 
found in this street Arab someone who could 
enlighten him in regard to the mystery which 
had puzzled him so much and awakened 
such a deep interest in the heart of Laura Van 
Kuren. 

“Who was the man who used to send you 
up there on errands?” inquired Bruce, after a 
brief silence. 

“ I never knowed his name. He was a bloke 
dat useter hang out at a place in Eldridge 
street, and he seen me around dere an’ gimme 
a job now an’ den. We useter call him Scar- 
Faced Charley.” 


198 


THE THIRD ALARM 


“ Well, what sort of a looking man was he ? ” 
persisted Bruce, trying not to betray the deep 
interest that he felt. 

“He was a tall feller, an’ had a black beard 
an’ a scar acrost his face,” said Skinny. 

Bruce asked no more questions, and the 
young newsboy soon after fell into a doze, leav- 
ing the other free to pursue his thought. It 
seemed to him now that he had at last found a 
clue to the identity of the man who had known 
his father, and whom he never doubted for a 
moment was the same one who had sent Skinny 
on errands to Mr. Dexter s house. The more 
he thought of it the more excited he became, 
and in his weak condition the excitement soon 
made itself manifest in his face, so that Miss In- 
graham, pausing for a moment beside his cot, 
noticed the condition of her patient, felt of his 
pulse, and then called the doctor to see if any 
change for the worse had taken place. The 
boy seemed to be on the verge of a fever, so 
the doctor gave him a quieting draught and 
bade him compose his mind, if possible, and go 
to sleep. 

The next day Bruce awoke feeling calmer 
and refreshed. The fever of the day before 
had left him, and when Miss Ingraham made 
her morning rounds she found him looking so 


THE THIRD ALARM 


199 


much better that she smiled encouragingly 
upon him, and told him that he was on the high 
road to recovery. 

“ Is there anything you would like me to do 
for you ? ” said the nurse, kindly. 

“Yes,” replied the boy timidly, “ if it is not 
too much trouble for you, I would like to have 
you write me a letter. I can’t use my hands 
yet and there’s a friend of mine to whom I wish 
to write.” 

The nurse, who was accustomed to requests 
of this sort, brought pen and paper to his bed- 
side, sat down and said : “ Well, what shall I 
write ? ” 

“You may begin with Dear Miss Laura,” 
said Bruce and Miss Ingraham smiled to her- 
self as she wrote it. The letter, which was con- 
cocted between them, read as follows : 

“ Dear Miss Laura : 

Something happened just after you went away yester- 
day that I thought would interest you. In the bed next 
to mine is a small boy whom I pulled out of the building 
that was on fire. As soon as you had gone he told me 
that he had seen you before, but I did not believe him. 
I asked him where and he said up near the Harlem river 
where you live. Then I asked him how he came to be up 
there, and he said that a man used to send him on errands 
to a house which I am sure from his description is Mr. 
Dexter’s. I asked him who the man was but he did not 


aoo 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


know. All he could tell me was that he was a tall, rtark 
man with a black beard and a scar across his face. What 
do you think of that ? It looks to me as if I could run 
him down with the help of Skinny, the boy who told me 
that, and as soon as I get well again I will start after him. 

Thanking you for your great kindness in coming to 
see me, I am, 

Yours very respectfully, 

Bruce Decker.*’ 

Then, having cautioned Miss Ingraham not 
to reveal to anybody the contents of his letter, 
he begged her to stamp and mail it to the 
address which he gave her, and this she readily 
promised to do. 


Chapter XXII, 


M R. VAN KUREN was seated at the break- 
fast table when the morning mail arrived 
and the servant placed the letters and papers 
in his hand. Glancing hurriedly at them, he 
noticed that one envelope bore the inscription 
of the New York hospital and was addressed 
to Miss Laura Van Kuren. The children had 
told him about Bruce’s misfortune and he 
guessed at once that the letter was from him. 
A cloud came across his face at once for he 
rightly considered his daughter too young to 
write to and receive letters from young boys, 
especially those of whom he knew as little as 
he did of Bruce. He said nothing at the time 
but slipped the letter into his pocket and as 
soon as breakfast was over bade Laura follow 
him into the library. 

“ Here is a letter for you, my daughter,” he 
said quietly, “ and you may read it now.” 

The young girl colored up to the roots of her 
hair as she opened the letter and hastily read 
it. Then she handed it to her father to read 
and she knew from the expression of his face 


202 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


that its contents were anything but pleasing to 
him. When he had finished it he said to her 
sternly: “I am surprised indeed, Laura, that 
you should discuss family secrets which you do 
not yourself comprehend, with a boy who is a 
complete stranger to us all, and I am grieved 
to learn that you went down to the hospital to 
visit him without saying anything about it to 
me or to your aunt. How did you ever 
come to mention the name of Mr. Dexter to 
this boy and how did he ever learn anything 
about this dark bearded man with the scar? 
Years ago, as you and Harry know perfectly 
well, you were both forbidden to go near the 
Dexter house or ask any questions concerning 
him or his family. I had excellent reasons for 
not discussing with you matters which you are 
still too young to understand. Now tell me 
how you came to seek information from this 
young rascal with whom you are carrying on a 
secret correspondence.’ , 

Laura, who had listened to her father’s words 
with downcast eyes, bit her lips angrily when 
she heard Bruce called “a young rascal.” She 
did not wish to tell her father the secret which 
she felt belonged by right not to her but to 
Bruce, and yet she knew that she must make 
some sort of reply, so she answered after a 


Then Laura began to cry . — Page 20J. 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


203 


moment’s hesitation : “He knew Mr. Dexter 
because he was sent up there on an errand that 
day that he found Harry with his sprained 
ankle and brought him home. So we got to 
talking about him and I told him that Harry 
and I had been forbidden to go near the house.” 

Then Laura began to cry and her father, 
having peremptorily ordered her not to reply 
to Bruce’s letter, started for his office, stopping 
a moment to tell Mr. Reed what had happened, 
and to bid him put a stop at once to the in- 
timacy with the young fireman who had, as he 
imagined, transgressed the law of hospitality 
by writing letters to the young girl. 

It was a dreary day for the brother and sister 
when they learned from the lips of the tutor 
that their father had forbidden them to have 
anything further to do with their new friend 
whom they both liked so much. Harry was 
particularly displeased because he declared that 
it was all Laura’s fault for sneaking off by her- 
self to visit him and then getting him to write 
letters to her, which she should have known 
was altogether improper. Laura on her part 
declared that if Harry had not been so hateful 
she would never have thought of doing any- 
thing to spite him and ended the discussion by 
declaring angrily, that she thought boys a 


204 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


nuisance and she was never going to have 
anything more to do with any of them so 
long as she lived. That afternoon Kitty 
Harriott came to see her, and on learning 
the dreadful news, proceeded to console her 
as well as she could, assuring her friend that 
it would all come out right after all just as 
it did in the story books of which they were 
so fond. 

During the first few days of his confinement 
in the hospital, Bruce found that the time hung 
very heavy on his hands, that his wounds were 
painful, his spirits low, and if it had not been 
for the occasional visits of his friends from the 
quarters, it is possible that he would have come 
to the conclusion that after all a fireman’s life 
was not a happy one. He was rather surprised 
that the Van Kuren children neither came to 
see him again nor wrote to him, but the truth 
was that Harry and Laura who were, in spite 
of their many faults, tactful children and 
thoughtful of the feelings of others, had decided 
that it would be best to keep their friend in 
ignorance of their father’s commands. “ Be- 
cause,” they argued, “he has a hard enough 
time of it now, lying there all day in the hospital, 
and if he learns that our father has put a stop 
to our friendship with him, it may make him 


THE 7 HIRE ALARM. 


205 


worse, and it will certainly not make him any 
happier than he is.” 

Bruce, of course, knew nothing about this, 
but imagined that the children would come to 
see him or write him again at the first oppor- 
tunity. As he grew better he found himself 
taking an interest in the events of the ward in 
which he lay, and it was not long before he had 
made the acquaintance of a few of the patients 
who were well enough to walk about and 
gossip with the occupants of the different beds. 
Most of the people in the casualty ward were 
working men who had met with accidents, and 
he noticed to his surprise that some of them 
seemed in no hurry to get well, and always 
limped in the most grievous fashion when any 
of the doctors were about. 

It was Skinny the Swiper who explained this 
phenomenon to him by remarking that these 
invalids lived better in the hospital than they 
did at home and at much less expense, and 
were therefore perfectly willing to stay there 
all winter and board at the expense of the city 
without doing any hard work. 

There were other men, however, who took 
their confinement much to heart and had no 
anxiety save to get out again and go to work 
for their wives and families. Bruce noticed, 


206 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


also, that the most intelligent men about him 
always yielded to the wishes of the physicians, 
took the medicines that were given them, and 
reposed faith in the wisdom of the medical 
practitioners, while the more ignorant ones did 
not hesitate to affirm that the doctors did not 
know their business, and that they themselves 
were capable of determining what medicine 
they should take and how their wounds should 
be treated. Having very little to do but lie on 
his back, and notice what went on about him, 
the boy acquired no small knowledge of human 
life and nature by his observations in the hos- 
pital ward. 

As to Skinny the Swiper, he proved an un- 
complaining patient and, although rather taci- 
turn from force of habit, was at times veiy en- 
tertaining in his accounts of life in what he 
called “de Fort’ ward” where he lived, and 
his comments on the people about him. 

It was Skinny who awakened a burst of 
laughter one morning .by suddenly calling out 
to one of the patients who had no desire to 
leave the hospital and return to his work, 
“ Cheese it, Welch, you’re limpin’ on de wrong 
leg this morning ! De doctor ’ll drop to yer.” 
And it was Skinny who learned to imitate the 
voices of the other men and would often break 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


207 


the silence of the early night with his monkey- 
like drollery. He regarded Bruce as his pre- 
server, and although he said but little in token 
of his gratitude, the other soon began to feel 
that he could rely upon the tough little news 
boy to render him any service that he might 
ask of him. And as day succeeded day, he 
carefully studied the character of his new 
friend, in order to determine whether it would 
be safe to trust him with the secret which as 
yet he had shared with no one but Laura. 
Then he remembered his promise to the young 
girl and determined that no matter what might 
happen he would say nothing without first 
obtaining her permission. 

At last the day came when the house surgeon, 
pausing in front of the boys’ beds, remarked : 
“Well, you two young men seem to be doing 
quite nicely, so I think you can get ready to 
leave here at the end of the week.” By this 
time both boys had progressed so far that they 
were able to walk about the ward and eat their 
meals in the dining room instead of having 
them brought to their bed-side. They were not 
strong by any means, but it was no longer 
necessary for them to remain in the hospital 
and their beds were needed for other patients. 
Bruce was delighted at the prospect of going 


208 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


and instantly wrote to Chief Trask to tell him 
the news. But Skinny heard the doctor’s 
words with passive indifference and did not 
seem to care much whether he went or 
stayed. 

“Where are you going to when you leave 
here ? ” said Bruce to his companion as he 
folded up his letter and addressed the en- 
velope. 

“ Dunno ” was the laconic reply. 

Bruce paused in his work and looked at the 
other with surprise. “ Do you mean to tell me 
that you haven’t any place to go to after you 
leave here ? ” he demanded. 

“No place in particular” answered Skinny. 
“ Mebbe I’ll go down to der Newsboy’s Home 
an’ brace de boss for a week’s lodgins, an’ 
a couple of dimes fer ter buy extrys wid.” 

The boy announced his intentions in a mat- 
ter-of-fact way that showed plainly what his 
manner of life had been, but Bruce was amazed 
to think that anyone could leave a sick bed and 
go out without friends to face the world as 
coolly and calmly as if he were going to a com- 
fortable home. All this time the boys had been 
sitting in extension chairs beside their beds 
and when Bruce had sealed his letter he went 
out to the closet in which his clothes and a few 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


209 


things that Chief Trask had sent him were 
kept, took from an inside vest pocket his pocket- 
book and found that it contained just eight 
dollars and forty-four cents. Taking exactly 
half of his fortune, he went back to where 
Skinny was seated and placed it in his lap. 

“There,” he remarked, “that’s just half my 
pile, Skinny, and perhaps the time will come when 
I shall want you to divide your pile with me.” 

Skinny looked at the money in his lap and 
then picked it up, carefully counted it, and rung 
one of the silver dollars with his teeth as if in 
doubt of its being genuine. Then he fixed his 
keen little blue eyes on Bruce and seemed to 
be trying to find some ulterior motive for his 
generosity. It was seldom, indeed, that any- 
one had reposed confidence in Skinny to the 
extent of lending him nearly five dollars, and 
he could not understand why anyone should do 
such a thing unless he had some object to gain. 
But his scrutiny of the boy’s clear, honest face 
failed to reveal to him any secret or sinister de- 
sign, and so, after a moment’s hesitation, he 
said cautiously “ Is dis on de level ? 99 

“That’s all right,” remarked Bruce, who had 
winced perceptibly under the boy’s squirrel like 
gaze, “ You’re weleome to that as long as you 
choose to keep it.” 


210 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“ Say, boss,” continued Skinny after another 
pause, during which he carefully thumbed over 
his suddenly acquired wealth, “ dat’s de white 
ting ter do, and I'll hump meself when I gets 
well to pay it off.” 

Bruce had winced under the boy’s sharp look 
because he felt that he suspected him of some 
ulterior motive, and he knew that he had an 
ulterior motive, which was to place Skinny un- 
der still further obligations to him in order that 
he might be depended upon to aid him in his 
search for the man who had once known his 
father. Never since the morning when the 
newsboy recognized Laura Van Kuren had 
Bruce referred in any way to the mysterious 
scarred and bearded stranger by whom the boy 
had been employed. He did not wish to ex- 
hibit any interest in him. The time would 
come for that, he said to himself, when he had 
left the hospital, and it was with this object in 
view that he had devoted a great deal of his 
time during his convalescence to cultivating 
an intimacy with Skinny and deepening 
in the heart of that young vagabond the 
feelings of gratitude and regard which he 
already felt for the gallant young fire laddie 
who had carried him from the burning build- 
ing. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


2 1 1 


It was Saturday morning when the boys said 
good bye to Miss Ingraham and their fellow 
patients in the casualty ward, and went out 
once more into the open street. Together 
they trudged along Fifteenth Street to Broad- 
way where Bruce took a car for the quarters, not 
feeling strong enough to walk any further, and 
Skinny kept on toward Third Avenue, intend- 
ing to go down to the Newsboys’ Home. Just 
before they parted, Skinny surprised his friend by 
saying in a careless way, “ Boss, you reck’lect 
that party I was speakin’ of as sent me on de 
errands ? Well, I kin fin’ him any time yer want 
him. Dat’s all.” Then he nodded his head 
and slouched across the street, a grotesque, 
ragged figure, while Bruce climbed into the 
horse-car and wondered how on earth the boy 
could ever have discovered that he felt any in- 
terest whatever in the man of whom they had 
spoken but once. But Bruce did not know how 
contact with the rough side of city life sharpens 
the senses of the young, nor did he know that, 
during those long days in the hospital ward, he 
had been very closely watched and studied by 
the little vagabond beside him. 


Chapter XXIII. 


M EANTIME things had not been going on 
smoothly at the home of the Van Kureu 
children. Mr. Van Kuren, although a devoted 
and careful father, was so much engrossed in 
his business that he had comparatively little 
time to devote to his children, and since the 
death of their mother, their education had 
necessarily been left largely in the hands of 
tutors, governesses and instructors of all sorts. 
The discovery that the young boy from the fire 
department whom he had been inclined to 
regard with so much favor had taken advantage 
of his intimacy with the children to conduct a 
clandestine correspondence with the daughter 
of the house, annoyed Mr. Van Kuren ex- 
cessively, and he determined to take imme- 
diate steps to prevent any repetition of the 
offense or continuance of the friendship. It 
was chiefly for this purpose that he finally made 
up his mind to do what he had long contem- 
plated, and one morning he summoned both 
children to his study, and threw them into a fever 
of excitement and delight by bidding them 
prepare at once for a trip to Europe. 


ai2 


THE THIRD ALARM 


213 


“But must we start to-morrow?” demanded 
Laura. “Why, I never can get ready in the 
world.” 

“Very well,” replied her father with a smile. 
“ If you’re not ready, you may remain at home 
while Harry, your aunt, Mr. Reed and I will take 
the trip. Shall I send word to the steamship 
office that we only need tickets for four ?” 

“ No, no, no, ” cried Laura, jumping up 
and down excitedly, “ don’t do that. I’ll go 
right away now and get ready. I’d die if 
I had to stay home while you and Harry went 
off.” 

Then both children set about the work of 
packing up their things and of writing one 
or two good-bye letters to the friends whom 
they where leaving behind. 

“ Did papa say how long we were to remain 
away?” asked Laura as she paused in the 
middle of a letter, 

“No,” answered her brother carelessly, 
“ but probably quite a while. I don’t care how 
long we stay. It will be lots of fun over there, 
and ever so much better than learning stupid 
lessons and staying in one place all the time. 
I guess I’ll write a letter to Bruce and tell him 
that we’re going to Europe to-morrow. I 
won’t say anything about papa getting hold of 


214 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


that letter, and when we come back maybe 
we'll be allowed to ask him up here again.” 

So Bruce learned the next day, at the very 
moment when the steamer was leaving her dock, 
that his friends had sailed away across the ocean 
and did not know when they would see him 
again. Europe seemed so far away to the young 
boy, and a trip across the ocean such a formid- 
able undertaking, that it seemed to him that he 
had said good-bye to them forever, and that if 
they did come back at all, they would never be 
the same. 

Now Mr. Van Kuren had purposely said 
nothing to his children about the probable 
length of their stay, but he had really deter- 
mined to remain with them abroad for at 
least a year, with the intention of carrying on 
their education, at the same time giving them 
the advantages of travel in foreign lands. Once 
across the ocean, he was satisfied that his 
daughter would forget the young fireman for 
whom he feared she cherished a childish liking, 
and so, as soon as the steamer had passed 
SanJy Hook, he dismissed Bruce altogether 
from his mind, and busied himself with thoughts 
of the days that lay before him. 

Harry’s letter to his young friend proved a 
genuine shock, and for fully twenty-four hours 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


215 


after receiving it, Bruce walked about the quar- 
ters, or sat in his accustomed seat in the corner, 
in a condition of dejection that did not escape 
the notice of Tom Brophy or the chief, for they 
both spoke of it, and both of them hoped that 
after distinguishing himself as he had, the boy 
would not allow himself to fall back into the 
state of discontent and indifference that had 
previously annoyed them. 

At the end of twenty-four hours, however, 
the boy suddenly regained his good spirits. 
During his period of gloom he had argued with 
and succeeded in convincing himself that, after 
all, the departure of his two cherished friends 
for Europe was the very best thing that could 
have happened to him. “ It made me sore,” 
he acknowledged to himself, “to go up there 
to their big house and see all the nice things 
they had, and then come back to my work again. 
If a fellow has got to work for his living as I 
have, he’d much better keep away from rich 
folks, and not have any friends who can spend 
a dollar where he can spend a cent. Everybody 
says I’ve made a good beginning, and now I am 
going to keep right on. If I have any 
spare time, I’ll spend it with that Skinny, work- 
ing up what Laura calls the mystery of my 
birth.” 


2l6 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


He smiled as he thought of the deep interest 
with which she used to discuss his affairs, and 
then a shade of sadness crossed his face as he 
remembered that she was at that moment out 
on the ocean, and that he might never see her 
again. Then his good sense acted as a tonic to 
his resolution, and he went about his duties 
determined that when she did return, she would 
find him changed and improved almost beyond 
recognition. 

His confinement in the hospital had left him 
in no condition to do a full day’s work, and so 
at the chief’s suggestion he spent a good part 
of his time out-of-doors, either walking about 
the streets near the quarters, or else riding up 
to Central Park, and strolling about in its pleas- 
ant paths, where he could enjoy the bright 
sunshine and the clear, fresh air to his heart’s 
content. 

It was during one of these rambles that he 
determined to devote some of his leisure time, 
and he had a great deal of it now owing to his 
state of health, to seek out his new boy friend 
and asking him to aid him in his work of inves- 
tigation. Bruce was by nature a deliberate, 
slow-thinking boy, who seldom acted on the 
impulse of the moment, and had a habit of 
devoting a great deal of thought to whatever 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


217 


he went about. He was naturally secretive, 
too, and up to this time, he had made a confi- 
dant of nobody except Laura Van Kuren ; not 
even to Chief Trask or Tom Brophy had he 
spoken a single word in regard to the import- 
ant matter which had taken up such a large 
share of his thoughts. 

Having once made up his mind that Skinny 
was a boy to be depended on, he did not start 
off at the very instant of his decision to 
seek him out, but with characteristic reserve 
waited until the next morning, and then, hav- 
ing obtained a leave of absence until the 
afternoon, started for the lower part of 
the city. In front of a tall brick building, not 
far from what was once Chatham Street, but 
is now Park Row, he paused and looked up. 
It was the Newsboys’ Lodging House, and 
the gentleman who stood in the doorway 
and asked him what he wanted, was the 
superintendent. 

Bruce made known his errand, and the 
superintendent shook his head doubtfully. “ I 
don’t know where you’ll find that boy Skinny,” 
he replied “he turned up here sometime ago 
with a story about having been in the hospital, 
and I must say he looked as if he’d been 
through some trouble or other, put up here for 


2 I S 


THE THIRD ALARM 


a while and then disappeared, and I haven’t 
seen him since.” 

“Well, he told the truth about being in the 
hospital,” rejoined the visitor stoutly, “ for I was 
there with him, and now I’d like to find him for a 
very particular reason.” 

“ I guess,” replied the superintendent, “ there 
are a good many people would like to find 
him for some particular reason, but I don’t know 
where he is, unless he’s selling papers around 
City Hall Square. I’ll ask the other boys to- 
night if they know anything about him, and 
then if you can drop around to-morrow, I may 
be able to tell you something.” 

Bruce turned away dejected and distrust- 
ful. He was afraid that Skinny would drift out 
of his ken. “ I was foolish to let him have that 
money,” he said to himself, “because he’ll never 
show up again for fear of being asked for it.” 


Chapter XXIV. 


ND now let us return to the newsboy, and 



trace his footsteps from the time he left 
his benefactor on the corner of Broadway. 
He stood on the street corner watching with 
his small, sharp eyes the street car until 
it was out of sight, then he turned and 
trudged on to Third Avenue, where he 
swung himself on board another car and 
was carried down to the lower part of the 
city. He went direct to the lodging-house, 
and, as the superintendent had said, told what 
was regarded at the time as an invention of 
his own, about his mishap at the fire, and his 
experience in the hospital, and was finally al- 
lowed to become a lodger for a short time on 
credit. He said nothing about the four dollars 
and twenty-two cents that Bruce had loaned 
him, and which he still had in his pocket. 
He had already determined to devote that 
sum to a special purpose, and to depend upon 
what he could pick up by selling newspapers 
or running errands to defray his expenses. 
He had often slept and eaten in the lodging 


319 


220 


THE THIRD ALARM 


house before, and, when the boys came troop- 
ing in just before supper time, there were 
many among them who knew him and came 
over to ask him where he had been. The gen- 
eral opinion among the boys, and it was shared 
by the superintendent also, was that Skinny 
had been sent to Blackwell’s Island for some 
misdemeanor, and had simply invented the hos- 
pital and fire story to shield his good name. 

“ Dat’s what happens to me fer goin’ ter 
work reg’lar,” said the boy to himself. “ Before 
I was in dat factory a day it took fire, an’ I 
hadn’t even had de time to learn de way out.” 

That night the boy sat down to supper with 
a hundred or more lads representing a dozen 
races and nationalities and innumerable call- 
ings, though the bulk of them made their living 
by selling newspapers and blacking boots. 
Supper over, they repaired to a big schoolroom 
on the floor above, and there, with slates and 
pencils and spelling books, endeavored to mas- 
ter the rudiments of an education. Skinny sat 
down at his desk with the others, and for an 
hour worked diligently. But every once in a 
while the remembrance of his friend, the fire- 
man, would come into his mind. He knew in- 
tuitively that Bruce was interested in the young 
girl who had come to see him, and the tall, 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


22 1 


dark man who must be, the boy reasoned, con- 
nected with her in some way. He would 
make it his business to seek out this man, and 
all that he could learn about him he would 
place at the service of his new friend. r 
Born and brought up in the slums, having 
learned his trade in the streets and in the face 
of the sharp, juvenile competition which goes 
on there, Skinny was well suited to prosecute 
a search of the kind that now engrossed his at- 
tention. The next morning he was up at day- 
break with the rest of the boys, and after 
breakfast betook himself to the big newspaper 
buildings where the presses were turning out 
the damp, freshly printed sheets by the thou- 
sands. Withdrawing from his hoarded capital 
half a dollar, Skinny invested it in a stock of 
morning papers, and then stationed himself 
near the entrance to the Bridge. By nine 
o’clock his stock was exhausted, and he had 
also secured about twenty papers which he had 
begged from passers by who had read and 
were about to discard them. These he had 
also disposed of, and he was now more than 
half a dollar richer than he had been the night 
before. Satisfied with his morning’s work, he 
returned to the lodging house and rested there 
until it was time to resume business with the 


222 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


afternoon papers as his stock in trade. The 
various editions of these kept him busy during 
the afternoon, and netted him half a dollar. 
Then he went home, exhausted with his hard 
work, ate his supper, spent an hour in the 
schoolroom, and then went to bed. 

For several weeks he labored industriously, 
and then beginning to tire of newspaper sell- 
ing, he determined to find some other job. 

Early one morning he bent his steps in the 
direction of Chatham Square, whence he 
walked along the Bowery till he came to Grand 
Street, and then, turning to the east, walked on 
until he found himself in the Jewish quarter of 
the town. As he walked he cast furtive and 
suspicious glances about him from time to time, 
for the exigencies of his life had taught him 
to be sharp and cunning, and distrustful of 
other people. It was seven o'clock by this 
time, and the street was full of girls hurrying 
toward the factories in which they worked. 
Turning into a side street the boy slunk along 
the pavement, and finally stopped and fixed his 
eyes on an old ramshackle building, the upper 
stories of which were occupied as a tenement 
house, while the ground floor was used as a 
sort of office. For some time the boy stood 
looking intently at this building from the oppo- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


223 


site side of the street, and then seeing no sign 
of life in the office on the ground floor, he 
walked away, made a circuit of the neighbor- 
hood, and at the end of an hour returned once 
more ; this time he found the office open and 
within it a small, dried up old man, who was 
writing in a big leather bound book. To him 
the boy addressed himself : 

“ Want any errands run to-day, boss ? ” he 
inquired. 

“ No ! ” replied the old man, shortly. 

“ Hey, boss,” went on Skinny, “ I used ter do 
odd jobs for dat bloke wid de black whiskers 
dat wuz here before, and I always done right 
by him.” The old book-keeper fixed his spec- 
tacles on his nose, and looked sharply down at 
the lad who stood before him with upturned 
face and with his hat on the back of his head. 

“Are you the boy that he used to send up 
town last winter?” demanded the clerk, sus- 
piciously, 

“Yes, I used ter take letters fer him way up 
above de bridge,” replied the other. 

“ Where have you been keeping yourself of 
late ? If you’d been here a few days ago you 
might have earned a dollar or so, but you boys are 
never around when you are wanted,” continued 
the book-keeper, speaking in sharp, stern tones. 


224 


THE TI1IR ALARM. 


“Well, ain’t dere no chance for me now, 
boss ? I wuz burned out of a factory, carried 
down de ladder by a mug dat found me burn- 
in’ up, and den dey took me to de hospital, 
and here I am. But where’s his nibs gone 
ter ? ” 

“Yes,” said the book-keeper, scornfully, 
“ you’ve been to the hospital, no doubt, but I 
guess it was a judge sent you there, But you 
come in here at twelve o’clock, and perhaps 
there’ll be a little work for you.” 

“ Dat’s it all de time,” said Skinny to him- 
self, as he walked away. “ Wot’s de use of 
doin’ de right ting when nobody won’t believe 
yer, and tinks all de time yer been up to der 
Island ? Dat’s wot comes of goin’ to work reg’- 
lar,” he added, and he shook his head with a 
determination never to do any business in the 
future except on his own account. 

Twelve o’clock found him standing once more 
in the little office on the side street, and when he 
entered, the old bookkeeper, who was still mak- 
ing entries in the big leather-bound volume as 
if he had been at it without a second’s inter- 
ruption all the morning, scarcely raised his eyes, 
while he said to him : “ Do you remember going 
up to a house above the Harlem river, one day, to 
take a letter to an old gentleman who lived 
there?” 




“ So you’ve been in the hospital, have you ? ” 


■Page 225 \ 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


225 


“ A big, square house, wid evergreens 
around it?” Yes, I could find it again in de 
dark.’* 

“Very well/’ continued the bookkeeper, 
whose pen did not cease scratching for a single 
moment, “you’d better go up now and find 
it, for there’s a gentleman up there who may 
give you a job ; but let me give you a bit of 
advice, young man. Don’t remember too 
much or see too much when you’re sent on 
errands. It’s the boys who forget what they 
see, and the places that they’re sent to, vho 
make the most money nowadays. Here’s 
twenty-five cents for car fare, and now you go 
up there, and you’ll find the gentleman whom 
you politely refer to as ‘ the bloke with the black 
whiskers ’ waiting for you.” 

Skinny made haste to obey, and within an 
hour was entering the dark, shady grounds of 
Mr. Dexter’s house with the same furtive, cau- 
tious way of looking about him that he had 
shown further down town. His old acquaint- 
ance, the man with the black beard and the 
deeply-scarred face, was walking up and down 
the roadway in front of the house, smoking a cigar. 

“ So you’ve been in the hospital, have you ? ” 
was his salutation. “ What sort of a hospital 
was it ? One with bars to the window ? ” 


226 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


“ Naw, der wan’t no bars to de windows. I 
wuz in de New York hospital, and I’ll leave it to 
de nurse, a dinky lady wot sat up all night wid us, 
and wore a white cap. Dat’s on de level, boss.” 

The tall man regarded him suspiciously for a 
moment, and the boy squinted up at him with a 
defiant look in his sharp eyes that caused the 
other to smile and say to him in more concilia- 
tory tones : “ Well, I’ve got one or two errands 
for you to do, and if you do them properly, 
you’ll be well paid for them. If not, you’ll come 
to grief. How would you like to take a little 
trip into the country, to be gone two or three 
days ? I hope that you have no pressing busi- 
ness engagements in the city that will interfere 
with the project.” 

Skinny replied with perfect gravity that he 
had intended to take dinner with Mr. Vander- 
bilt that night, but that he would try and get him 
to excuse him, in which case he observed in his 
picturesque slang that it would be necessary for 
him to eat elsewhere, and at an early moment. 
The tall man was laughing broadly now — he 
always found a great deal of amusement in 
Skinny — and so he bade him go into the kitchen 
and tell the cook to let him have something to 
eat. " When you are through, come into the 
library, I want to talk to you.” 


Chapter XXV. 


HE boy partook of a hearty meal in the 



1 kitchen of the great house, and while he 
was eating it, entertained the cook and the other 
servants with his droll comments on the food 
that was set before him. Having finished, he 
washed his face and hands at the sink, bowed 
politely to those who were in the room, and 
went up to the library where the master of the 
house was awaiting him. 

“ Do you think ” said the tall man, “ that you 
could find your way to a place two or three hun- 
dred miles from here, do an errand for me 
without telling everything you know, and then 
come back ?’’ 

“I kin,” was Skinny’s answer. 

“Very well,” rejoined the other producing a 
paper on which was written a number of names 
“ Can you read writing ? 

Yes, thanks to the night school in the lodg- 
ing house, Skinny could read, and he said so 
in accents of just pride mingled with contempt 
for those who were his inferiors in that point 
of education. 


«7 


328 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“All right then,” continued the other. 
“ Take this paper and listen to what I tell you. 
Go up to the village of Rocky Point and try 
to get work there with some farmer or shop- 
keeper. That’s just for a blind, you know, so 
that nobody will guess that you’ve come up 
there all the way from New York. Perhaps it 
would be better for you to stop off the train 
at some other village and walk in on foot. As 
soon as you get a chance, take a walk out to 
the cemetery and look around for a grave 
marked Decker. I think it’s the grave of 
Mary Decker . When you find it, copy the 
inscription, every word of it, mind, dates and 
all, and stick it away somewhere where nobody 
will find it. Then see if there are any other 
graves in the same plot with the same name. 
See if there is the grave of a young boy, the 
son of this Mary Decker there, and if there is 
a grave without any headstone over it, find 
out who lies buried there. If there is no other 
grave, find out from some of the village folks 
whether this Mary Decker left any children, 
and if so what has become of them. It may 
take you a week, or it may take you only a day 
to do all this, but as soon as you get the in- 
formation, come back to me and let me know 
about it. Here is money enough for your 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


229 


fare and other expenses, and perhaps you had 
better write me a letter as soon as you get set- 
tled there. Here is my address, Robert J. 
Korwein, — Eldridge Street/’ 

Skinny had listened with close attention to 
all that had been said to him and now, taking 
the paper with the different names marked on 
it, he carefully went over it, making a few 
scratches of his own from time to time which 
should serve him as memoranda. Then with- 
out a word, he took the roll of bills which lay 
cn the table before him, counted them carefully 
and hid them away in the inner pocket of his 
ragged jacket. 

“I understand, boss,” he simply said, “wot 
time does de train start ? ” 

“ To-night at eight ” was the reply, “here’s 
a time table and remember to change cars at 
Syracuse for Oswego. There you will take an- 
other train for Rocky Point. Be careful not to 
attract any attention or set those village fools 
to gossiping and cackling. Above all, don’t let 
anybody find out that I sent you, or that there’s 
anybody alive who takes any interest in the 
grave of Mary Decker or in the whereabouts of 
her son. If you get through this trip all right and 
find out what I want to know, I’ll give you more 
money than you ever had before in your life.” 


23 ° 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“ Dere won’t be no slip-up, nor funny busi- 
ness wid me, boss/’ said Skinny as he buttoned 
his coat over the roll of greenbacks. I’ll git 
you dere names and all and I’ll probably write 
yer in two or tree days.” 

Mr. Korwein accompanied the boy to the gate 
and, having repeated his caution to observe 
secrecy and dispatch in his mission, bade him 
good-bye, and watched him as he walked down 
the road and finally disappeared from view ; 
then he returned to the front porch of the 
house, seated himself on the steps, and for 
some time sat there smoking and thinking. 
After awhile, he threw away his cigar, pulled a 
letter from his pocket and read it carefully 
through. It was dated Paris, and read as fol- 
lows : 

“ My Dear Nephew : 

It is a great pleasure to me to hear from you as fre- 
quently as I do, and I sincerely hope that you are living 
up to all that you promised me at our last meeting. I 
think on the whole, that it is a fortunate thing for me, 
that you are living in the old homestead, and I am glad 
that you find the house comfortable. As the years roll by, 
each one leaves its weight on my shoulders and as I draw 
nearer to the end I find myself thinking more of the few 
of my blood who remain. As I told you long ago I have 
never made a will, fearing that it would bring about an 
unseemly contest after I had gone. As next of kin you 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


231 


will be my principal heir, and I charge you once more to 
carefully carry out all the wishes which I have made 
known to you concerning the small bequests to my faithful 
servants and others whom I wish to reward. 

I have not yet determined when to return to my own 
country, but it is not improbable that you will see me 
before the end of the year. Meantime see that the 
house and grounds are suitably maintained, and write me 
from time to time concerning your welfare. 

Hoping this will find you in good health, I remain, 
Your affectionate kinsman, 

Samuel Dexter.” 

When Mr. Korwein had finished reading this 
letter he replaced it carefully in his pocket, lit 
another cigar, and resumed his meditations, 
and if anyone could have looked into his heart 
at that moment he would have been heard to 
say to himself something like the following : 

“ I think that after all I have played my 
cards wonderfully well and unless some brat 
turns up with a claim on it nothing can prevent 
me from inheriting the bulk of the estate, So 
far he knows nothing about the shop down 
town, but if he ever finds out about it I shall 
be ruined. I’ll take care that he doesn’t 
though, and, after all, the city is so big, and 
there are so many people in it, that the chances 
of his or anybody else’s connecting me with 
that shop are very small indeed. The boy has 


232 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


got some stuff in him and under my tuition 
he’ll amount to something. I think I’ll take 
hold of him if he does this business in the 
country all right, and give him a steady job, 
looking after my affairs. He’s a smart little 
brute and knows enough to keep his mouth 
shut. It’s easy enough to get some lawyer 
to go up there and find out what I want to know 
but a lawyer would be too smart to suit me ; 
he’d suspect something at once, whereas this 
kid will think of nothing except the money he’s 
going to get, besides if he did want to blab 
he’d find no one but some youngster of his 
own age and class to talk to. I guess I did 
the best thing I could in sending him up there, 
but all the same I shall be anxious until he 
gets back.” 

At this point in his reflections, the tall, dark 
bearded man rose to his feet, walked swiftly 
down the winding path, passed through the 
front gate, and then went on down below it till 
he reached the station of the east side of the 
Elevated railroad. Three quarters of an hour 
later he entered the little office on Eldridge 
Street where the book-keeper was still dili- 
gently at work on his big ledger. 

“ How is business to-day ?” he asked of his 
assistant. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


2 33 


“ Pretty fair ” replied the other, as he handed 
his chief a batch of letters that had arrived in 
the morning’ s mail, and which he had opened 
and perused. Mr. Korwein took the letters 
in his hand, pushed open a small swinging door 
behind the book-keeper’s desk and disappeared 
into the room beyond, leaving the old book- 
keeper toiling away with his scratching pen as 
if he had been at it all his life and never ex- 
pected to stop. 

When Skinny the Swiper parted from his 
employer he walked rapidly down the road 
which led to the Elevated station, took the train 
and proceeded to Forty-second Street, and then 
to the Grand Central Depot. Here he pur- 
chased a ticket for Rocky Point, and, finding 
that he still had an hour to wait, determined to 
employ his time to good advantage in eating 
another dinner. The fact that he had partaken 
of a hasty repast in Mr. Korwein’s kitchen two 
hours before, made no difference to him. 
Hearty repasts did not come in Skinny’s way 
every day, and he believed in availing himself 
of every opportunity of the sort that presented 
itself. He was capable of eating three or four 
dinners in one day, and nothing at all for two 
days after, and as he was going into the inter- 
ior of the country, to a point more distant from 


234 


THE THIRD ALARM. \ 


the city than any that he had ever previously 
visited, he determined to fortify himself for the 
journey with a good, square New York meal, 
the last, he said to himself, that he might have 
for many a day. 

Therefore he strolled languidly along, with 
his hands in his pockets, until he reached Third 
Avenue, and not half a block away he found a 
small oyster house, in which he thought he 
could be well fed. In taking a seat at one of 
the small tables, he called the waiter to him in 
a lordly manner, that caused the other diners 
in the room to smile broadly, and bade him 
bring him a beefsteak, potatoes, a piece of apple 
pie, and “ be quick about it.” 

“ Which will you have first, sir, the pie or the 
steak,” said the waiter with perfect gravity. 

“ You can bring me de pie, an’ I’ll eat it while 
de steak is cookin’,” replied Skinny, and was 
astonished to notice that his remarks were 
greeted with a general roar of laughter, in 
which the waiter and cashier, as well as the 
guests, joined heartily. 

Having eaten his dinner, he returned to the 
depot, easily found his train, and in a very short 
time was being whirled along over the smooth 
road that leads to Albany. He had never been 
twenty miles from the city in his life, and as 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


2 35 


the train sped on, affording him continual 
glimpses of the broad Hudson, he wondered 
how much further the country extended, and 
whether the whole of the United States was 
like that part of it which he saw from his car 
window. The train was still many miles from 
Albany when the darkness succeeded the twi- 
light, the moon and stars came out, and the 
little street boy looked down upon the great 
river that was bathed in moonlight and saw it 
at its best. After awhile he felt himself grow- 
ing drowsy, then he stirred himself up on the 
red plush seat, closed his eyes, and did not 
open them again until the next morning. When 
he awoke the car was passing slowly through 
the street of a town, and Skinny wondered 
if it could be possible that they were back again 
in New York, after having completed the cir- 
cuit of the earth. It was some minutes before 
he could collect his scattered senses, and then 
the train stopped, the passengers streamed 
out, and Skinny learned that they were in 
Syracuse, and that everybody was going out 
for breakfast. 

Thrusting his hand in his inner pocket he 
found that his money was still there, and as he 
entered the big dining-room in the railroad 
depot, he chuckled to think of the meal that 


236 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


he was going to enjoy at somebody else’s 
expense. It was an ordinary railroad restaur- 
ant, and a great many of the well-dressed 
passengers were turning up their nose at the 
coffee, which was served in thick china cups, 
and at the sandwiches, triangles of pie, bits of 
cold chicken that were displayed on the counter 
under glass cases, like curiosities in a museum, 
but the little street boy from New York thought 
it one of the finest places he had ever been in, 
and the breakfast which he consumed was cer- 
tainly superior to anything that he had been 
accustomed to. 

Breakfast over, he strolled out on the plat- 
form, and, with his hands in his pockets and his 
sharp eyes noting everything and everybody 
that came within their range of vision, he 
walked up and down whistling in a shrill man- 
ner, and creating no small amount of amuse- 
ment. Having entertained the depot loungers 
for a few moments, he sought out the Oswego 
train, climbed aboard it, and just as it was on 
the point of starting, waved his hand cheerfully 
to the group who were watching him from the 
depot. At Oswego he ate another breakfast, 
and then boarded the train for Rocky Point, a 
small village on the shore of Lake Ontario. 


Chapter XXVI. 


S soon as the train had left Oswego, Skinny 



took from his pocket the written instruc- 
tions that Mr. Korwein had given him and de- 
voted a quarter of an hour to a close study of 
it. Then he put it back in his pocket, con- 
sulted a time table of the road and found that 
there was a station next to Rocky Point and 
not more than three miles distant from it. At 
this station the boy determined to alight and 
perform the remainder of his journey on foot. 
It would look suspicious, he thought, for a boy 
of his size and raggedness to arrive in a village 
by any such luxurious mode of travel as a rail- 
road train. He felt that he would be expected 
to go at once from the depot to the best hotel 
in the town and if he started out in quest of a 
job he would instantly be looked upon by the 
authorities as a suspicious character. It would 
be more in keeping with his appearance as well 
as his purpose to arrive on foot by way of the 
high road. 

Therefore he left the train at the station next 
the one he was journeying to, and started to 


237 


238 


THE THIRD ALARM \ 


finish the distance on foot. It was a cool au- 
tumn morning with just enough warmth in the 
sun’s rays to make walking enjoyable. The 
road which he took afforded him a view of Lake 
Ontario, as it ran parallel with the shore of 
that great inland sea. Skinny thought it was 
salt water ; in fact he thought all large bodies 
of water were salt, and although he soon found 
himself very thirsty it never occured to him to 
go down to the beach which in some places was 
within fifty yards of the road and take a drink. 
So he trudged patiently along, hoping to find 
some well or spring, and while he was walking 
and whistling he was surprised to see lying by 
the roadside a new red shawl which had evidently 
been dropped from some passing vehicle. He 
picked it up instantly for it was his habit to 
pick up whatever he could find in his way. 
It was a good shawl of a bright pattern 
and apparently had not been worn much. 
Skinny examined it carefully, wondering what 
use he could make of it. Then he shook his 
head doubtfully, tucked the shawl under his 
arm and trudged on as before. He had not 
gone far before he saw a carriage approaching, 
and as it drew near he noticed that it was 
driven by a lady who looked anxiously about 
her on both sides of the road while she urged 


THE THIRD ALARM \ 


239 


her horse rapidly forward. Skinny, who at this 
moment was enjoying a short rest on a big 
stone under an oak tree, remarked the lady’s 
appearance and said to himself “ Dat must be 
de one dat lost de shawl.” 

His first impulse was to conceal it behind the 
stone upon which he sat, but another idea — one 
that was more honest and more politic as well 
— came into his head, and as she was about to 
drive past him he started up from his seat and 
called to her, at the same time displaying the 
red garment in his hand. The lady stopped 
her horse suddenly and Skinny stepped over 
to the carriage and said “ I found dat shawl up 
de road, but I guess it’s yours.” 

As he said this he found that he was speaking 
to a young buxom and healthy woman who 
looked as if she might be the wife of some 
prosperous farmer. He saw also that she had 
been driving very fast, for her horse was pant- 
ing and wheezing very much after the manner 
of the horses of New York that were used to 
bring the afternoon papers from Park Row to 
the upper part of the city. She looked down 
at the ragged boy who stood by her wheel with 
the red shawl thrown over his arm and then 
she smiled in what the little newsboy thought 
was a wonderfully sweet and winning way, and 


240 


THE 7 HIED ALARM. 


still smilling, she said : “Yes that is my shawl. 
I lost it about three quarters of an hour ago 
and I was so afraid that somebody would pick 
it up and make off with it that I just drove 
back as fast as I could, to get it. Where did 
you find it ? ” 

“Along dere a little ways” replied the boy 
indicating with his right hand the direction from 
which he had come. 

“ And who are you little boy, and where do 
you come from ? ” continued the lady still smil- 
ing pleasantly. 

“Oh I was just out for a walk,” replied 
Skinny with his accustomed air of careless 
bravado, but just then he happened to remem- 
ber the role that he was assuming, and he 
added with great haste “ I taut mebbe I could 
get a job some’rs around here. I want work, 
dat’s wot I want.” 

Having said this he politely handed his new 
acquaintance her shawl and stood regarding 
her critically through his keen blue eyes. The 
young lady in her turn subjected the boy to a 
scrutiny that was as careful as that with which 
he regarded her and in a moment or two she 
said “If you will get into the carriage with me 
I will take you down to my house and perhaps 
my husband will find something for you to do. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


241 


At any rate, he will give you something for 
finding the shawl.” 

“ I don’t want nuthin’ for lettin’ go de shawl. 
I wanter get a job of some kind ernuther. I 
tink I’d like ter try a little country life.” 

‘•Well, jump in with me and I’ll see what 
can be done for you ” rejoined his new ac- 
quaintance, and Skinny accepted her invitation 
without another word. He climbed up to the 
seat beside her and waited quietly while she 
turned her horse around and started in the di- 
rection of Rocky Point. The boy enjoyed the 
ride very much, but although it was full of 
wonderful surprises to him, he did not show by 
his face or manner that it was the first time in 
his life that he had ever been more than twenty 
miles away from New York. As for the broad 
expanse of water that lay stretched out before 
him he was sure it was either the Atlantic 
Ocean or the Gulf of Mexico or the Pacific, he 
did not know which and he did not care enough 
to ask. they rode along they passed field 
after field of ripened corn and wide orchards in 
which men were busy shaking the fruit from 
the trees and gathering it in great heaps on 
the grass ready for packing in barrels. Occas- 
ionally they passed bits of woodland in which 
the trees, touched by the early frosts, were 


242 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


brilliant in red, yellow and scarlet. Farmers 
passed them on the road, riding in wagons 
piled high with corn and apples, and once 
Skinny saw a load of yellow pumpkins, the 
like of which he had never set eyes on before. 
It was all very new and strange to the city boy, 
and his keen eyes took in everything about 
him, but not a word escaped his lips that be- 
trayed his utter ignorance of country life. 

He made up his mind, however, that it would 
be best for him to tell his companion that he 
had come from New York, because, he argued, 
she would be sure to find it out herself even if 
she had not already noticed the difference be- 
tween a boy from the city and the “jayhaw- 
kers,” as he denominated them whom he 
judged constituted the bulk of the population 
of the neighborhood. Therefore he told her 
that he had made his way from New York by 
easy stages — “ dey wuz easy too ” he said to 
himself with a chuckle — and that he wanted to 
get work on a farm or in a country hotel. To 
the lady who rode beside him, the boy’s desire 
to get out of the city into the country seemed 
but a natural one, while his honesty in restor- 
ing her lost shawl and his avowed purpose to 
get work of some kind commended him strongly 
to her, and she determined to give him what- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


*43 

ever help she could. On the outskirts of the 
village of Rocky Point she drew up in front 
of a large, comfortable looking farm house 
and bade her companion descend and open 
the gate, A tall, sunburned and bearded 
man who was standing in his shirt sleeves by 
the barn door now came forward to greet his 
wife. 

“ I’ve brought a boy home for you Silas,” she 
remarked pointing to Skinny who was standing 
holding the gate open for her to enter, “what 
do you think of him ? ” The husband smiled 
pleasantly in response but the glance which he 
bestowed on the new arrival was one of cur- 
iosity blended with a degree of suspicion. 

“ Where did you pick him up,” he said as he 
helped his wife to alight. 

It was a strange thing to the newsboy, whose 
life had been spent in the streets of the great 
city, to find himself awaking the next morning 
in a clean, wholesome bed in a room which, if 
not elegant, was at least comfortable, neat and 
redolent of old fashioned country herbs. Of 
course he did not question the honesty of his 
host or hostess but from sheer force of habit 
and as a precautionary measure, too, he 
examined the roll of bills in his inside pocket 
and assured himself that they were all there. 


244 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


Then he dressed himself, stole quietly down 
stairs and found Mrs. Wolcott busy in her 
big kitchen. 

Her husband was out in the barn, and there 
Skinny found him, giving the horses and cattle 
their morning meal. There was plenty about 
the farm for a boy to turn his hand to, and 
Skinny’s first job was driving the cows out to 
the pasture where there was still to be found a 
good deal of grass that had defied the cold 
weather. It was an easy and not unpleasant 
task strolling along the road, letting down the 
bars of the pasture lot, watching the cattle as 
they streamed through, and then putting up 
the bars and walking back to the farm house 
where Mrs. Wolcott had just put the breakfast 
on the table. The boy found, too, that his 
walk had given him an excellent appetite and 
he consumed such an amount of country lux- 
uries as fairly surprised himself. Breakfast 
over he helped the farmer put the two horses 
in the big wagon, then climbed in and accom- 
panied him to the corn field a mile away. 

By the exercise of his customary and habit- 
ual silence, and by carefully watching the farmer 
and the hired man, Skinny managed not only 
to acquit himself with credit in their eyes but to 
impress them with the idea, that it might be a 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


2 45 


handy thing to have a boy of his sort about 
the farm all the time, or at least until the har- 
vesting was over. 

During that day Skinny did more solid work, 
ate more good food, and breathed more pure 
air than in any other one day of his career, and 
when night came he fell asleep and did not stir 
again until he was aroused by the farmer early 
in the morning. Then he repeated his experi- 
ence of the day before, and by the time Sunday 
came around he had come to the conclusion 
that country life was not so bad, after all, and 
that there were worse people in the world than 
“ jayhawkers,” as he called them. On Sun- 
day morning, Mr. and Mrs. Wolcott started, in 
their best clothes, for church, a proceeding which 
seemed so remarkable to Skinny that he in- 
quired why they went there. They would have 
taken him with them, too, if his clothes had 
been more presentable, but although Mrs. Wol- 
cott had made some repairs in his torn jacket, 
and provided him with a new and clean shirt, 
he was still unmistakably a ragged New York 
street boy, and would have been out of place 
in the village church, where all the coun- 
try lads were taken, neatly washed and 
combed, and with their boots well greased and 
their clothes carefully brushed. 


246 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


So Skinny remained at home with the hired 
man, who promptly went to sleep on the hay 
in the barn, after the fashion of all hired men, 
leaving the strange boy to his own devices. 
That was exactly what he wanted, and taking a 
piece of paper and a pencil from the parlor 
table, he seated himself in a corner of the 
kitchen, and addressed the following letter to 
his employer, at the same time congratulating 
himself on the diligence which he had displayed 
at the night school in the Newsboys’ lodging- 
house, which had enabled him to write so freely 
and elegantly. This was what he had to say : 

“ Mr. Korwein — 

Sir : — I have got a job on a farm, and will do what you 
told me when I get the chance. No more at present, from 

Skinny.” 

The chance which he had been looking for 
came to him rather unexpectedly that very after- 
noon, when Mrs. Wolcott asked him to take a 
letter to the post office for her, and suggested 
at the same time that he should take a little 
walk around the village. 

“Wot sort uv tings is dere ter see in dis 
place ? ” asked the boy. 

“Well,” replied the other, smiling, “the 
usual afternoon walk is down over the bridge 
to the cemetery, and if you keep up along that 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


247 


road a mile further, you’ll find some very pretty 
woods that go down to the shore.” 

“All right,” replied the boy, “ I’ll take in all 
de sights.” 

Stopping at the post-office, he mailed his own 
letter as well as the other, and then kept on 
down the village street, across the bridge and 
up the hill to the old burying-ground, in which 
a number of rustic couples were enjoying their 
regular Sunday afternoon stroll. These looked 
with some surprise and a little amusement, at 
the ragged boy, who was prowling about from 
one headstone to the other, reading the pane- 
gyrics and inscriptions, and evidently hunting 
for some particular grave. But although he 
searched diligently for nearly an hour, he could 
find no gravestone that answered the descrip- 
tion given him by Mr. Korwein, and, fearing 
that he was attracting more attention than he 
desired, he started to leave, with the intention 
of returning at some future day, when to his 
intense surprise, he heard his name called in a 
familiar voice, and on looking up saw some one 
whom he knew rapidly approaching him. 

Like other boys of his class, born and 
brought up in the streets of New York, and 
accustomed from the earliest period of infancy 
to take part in the great struggle of life, Skinny 


248 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


possessed a degree of stoicism that would have 
done credit to an Indian warrior, and it was 
seldom, indeed, that he was taken off his guard, 
no matter what happened. But this time his 
surprise was so great that he forgot himself, and 
standing stark still in the path, exclaimed 
“ Hully gee ! ” 

The next moment Bruce Decker was wring- 
ing him by the hand, and saying : “ What in the 
world brings you up here ? ” 

Skinny grinned broadly, and replied : “ Fm 
a haymaker now, workin’ on a farm here. 
Dere’s lots to eat, and a good place to sleep. 
I tink I’ll stay here all winter. But I taut you 
wuz in New York.” 

This is the town I used to live in when I was 
a small boy,” replied Bruce, “and I’ve just 
come back here for a short visit. This is the 
first time I’ve been here since I went into the 
fire department, and it’s great to get out in the 
country again. But when did you leave the 
city ? I wanted to see you, and I went down 
to that lodging-house, but you were not 
there. I was afraid I wouldn’t run across you 
again.” 

“ I s’pose yer taut that I wuz goin’ ter sneak 
wid dat money, but I wa’nt. I’m earnin’ it up 
here.” 



“ My mother is buried here .” — Page 248. 







THE THIRD ALARM. 


249 


“ Never mind about that money/’ rejoined 
Bruce hastily. “I wanted to see you about 
some other things. I wanted to find out some 
more about that man with the scarred face you 
told me about who sent you on the errands 
up to Harlem. Have you seen him since we 
parted ? ” 

For a moment the other boy hesitated, re- 
membering his instructions to observe secrecy. 
Then he remembered that he owed his life to 
Bruce, and that, according to his code, he was 
bound to him, rather than to a man who was 
nothing more than his employer. “Yes,” he 
said, hesitatingly, “I seen him de odder day, 
but he didn’t say nuthin’ about you.” 

No, of course he wouldn’t,” answered Bruce, 
“and I don’t want you to say anything to him 
about me, either, but for all that, I want to get 
on his track and find out who he is, just for 
reasons of my own, and as soon as I get back 
to the city I want you to take me where I can 
find him.” 

Skinny made no reply, but continued to 
regard the other with his keen, light-blue eyes, 
and then Bruce went on in softer tones : “ My 
mother is buried here, and I came out to see 
her grave. Come over here, and I’ll show it to 
you.” Leading the way, across an empty bit 


25 ° 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


of grass, he stopped in front of a small gray 
headstone, and there the New York street boy 
read a name which caused him to forget him- 
self for the second time that afternoon, and to 
exclaim once more “ Hully gee ! ” 

Never, up to that moment, had he in any way 
connected Bruce, whom he knew only by his 
first name, with the mission on which he had 
been sent, but now a sudden gleam of compre- 
hension lit up his mind, for he saw on the grave- 
stone before him the inscription : 


SACRED TO THE MEMORY 
OF 

Mary, Wife of Frank Decker, 

BORN DEC. 1ST, 1 85 5, 

DIED SEPT. 5TH, 1877. 


Chapter XXVII 


ET us return now to the Van Kuren family, 



' whom we last saw at the moment of their 
departure for Europe. Mr. Van Kuren hav- 
ing determined to give himself a long rest and 
his children opportunities for travel in foreign 
lands and study under the most competent 
instructors, journeyed at once to Paris and 
there established himself in a great hotel in- 
tending to take a place in the suburbs of 
the French capital. Laura and her brother 
amused themselves by walking and riding 
through the city, sometimes with their aunt 
and sometimes with Mr. Reed, their tutor, but 
there were many hours which they were com- 
pelled to spend in their rooms engaged in 
study, for their lessons went on under the 
supervision of their tutor just exactly as they 
had at home. 

One morning they were sitting together in the 
parlor of Mr. Van Kuren’s apartment talking 
about America and their many friends there, as 
they frequently did, and Bruce’s name came 
up with the others. 


252 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“I wish,” said Laura, “that papa would let 
us write to him, because he must think it very 
strange that he has heard nothing from us 
since we went away. You see he knows noth- 
ing about us or why we had to break off our 
friendship so suddenly.” 

“ Oh I’ll get around papa all right one of 
these days,” said Harry carelessly, “and I’ve 
no doubt he’ll let me send him a letter when 
I ask him to.” 

They were still talking about Bruce and 
wondering whether he had completely re- 
covered from his injuries, when the door 
opened and their father entered in company 
with a white haired gentleman whom they 
recognized at once as the one who had 
occupied the big house near their own and 
whose name they had long since been forbidden 
to mention. They looked up now with their 
eyes wide open with surprise, as their father 
called to them by name and said, “ Samuel, 
these are my children. You haven’t seen 
them since they were very small.” Mr. Dex- 
ter extended his hand and said with an ex- 
tremely pleasant smile on his paleface, “Yes 
I remember them very well. This is Laura and 
this is Harry. You don’t remember me, children, 

I suppose ?” 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


2 53 


Laura made no reply, but Harry spoke up in 
his impulsive, boyish way and said, “ why you’re 
the gentleman who lives in that, big square 
house, and used to come and see us ever so 
many years ago, I remember you well but 
papa told us long ago that we mustn’t — ” 

“ That will do Harry,” said his father hastily 
and in a stern tone of voice which his son was 
thoroughly familiar with. Then he turned to 
Mr, Dexter and said, “It’s some years since 
we’ve seen you and I didn’t think the boy had 
such a good memory.” 

“Yes,” replied the other, who had been 
amused at Harry’s interrupted remark, “a 
fatally good memory, I see. But how long do 
you intend to stay in Paris ?” 

“A month or so” said Mr. Van Kuren, and 
then the children were sent out of the room 
and he and Mr Dexter seated themselves and 
entered into a long talk which lasted until the 
time came for dinner. During that meal, of 
which Mr. Dexter partook also, he asked both 
Harry and Laura a great many questions about 
their studies and amusements, and evinced an 
interest in them which neither could quite 
understand. Laura was burning to tell him 
all about Bruce aud his strange recollection of 
the old house, but no opportunity offered it- 


254 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


self, and soon after dinner Mr. Dexter went 
out with her father, leaving the brother and 
sister to amuse themselves until bed-time. 

That night Laura made up her mind to 
speak to Mr. Dexter as soon as possible about 
the subject that was uppermost in her mind. 
She longed to ask her father or her aunt why 
it was that this old gentleman, whom they had 
been brought up to avoid, should suddenly 
appear before them in Paris as her fathers 
friend and guest, but when on the following 
day she ventured to broach the subject, she 
was told so peremptorily that little children 
should not ask questions, that she did not ven- 
ture to repeat her attempt, but determined to 
await an opportunity to speak to Mr. Dexter 
himself. That opportunity soon offered itself, 
for the old gentleman became a frequent visi- 
tor at the hotel, calling upon her father almost 
every day and either going out with him or 
else remaining for long and close conversa- 
tions. Miss Van Kuren went with them in 
their journeys or joined them in their talk, but 
it was some days before Laura found the 
chance for which she was looking so 
anxiously. 

One morning the old gentleman arrived just 
after the whole of the Van Kuren family, ex- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


255 


cepting Laura, had gone out and it was she 
therefore who received him in the private par- 
lor. Mr. Dexter seated himself in an easy 
chair by the fire and entered into conversation 
with the young girl regarding her lessons, her 
friends in America and the amusement which 
she found in Paris. This was the chance she 
had been waiting for, and with an air of deep 
mystery she said. 

“ Mr Dexter there was a very curious thing 
that happened some time ago and if I tell you 
I want you to promise me not to say anything 
about it to anybody not even to papa, and 
particularly not to Harry/’ In her eagerness 
she forgot the agreement she had made with 
Bruce, an agreement which had more than 
once prevented him from speaking of the sub- 
ject to friends and others who might have 
aided him in his search. 

*• Certainly my dear, I will make that prom- 
ise ” replied Mr. Dexter, with a benificent 
smile, “ now tell me what this mysterious thing 
is. I assure you I am very anxious to know.” 

Then Laura told him the story with which 
my readers have been already made familiar — 
she described to him their acquaintance with 
Bruce and repeated what he had told her in 
regard to the old house and his instant recog- 


256 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


nition of it. As she proceeded, the old gentle- 
man’s interest in her story grew stronger and 
stronger, and when she ended he wiped the 
perspiration from his forehead with a hand that 
was by no means steady and exclaimed “ What 
you tell me is very strange indeed ! I remember 
the young man very well. He came up to my 
house one day to get some magazines and 
papers that I had there ; and so he found Harry 
that very day did he ? Well my dear, I scarcely 
know what to think of it, for strangely enough 
his story fits in with certain other things that I 
have learned within a year and makes it more 
than possible that — but after all what is the use 
of allowing such thoughts to enter my head ? ” 
and breaking off abruptly he rose from his chair 
pacing slowly up and down the floor talking 
indistinctly to himself as he did so. 

And as he walked, Laura, who had become 
thoroughly excited over the mystery which she 
found as romantic and interesting as any she 
had ever found in a novel, watched him intently, 
carefully noting the effect that her words had 
had on him and wondering what the meaning 
of the whole matter was. 

“ Do you happen to know the address of this 
young man ? ” inquired Mr. Dexter suddenly 
stopping in his walk. 



















, * 






















































' 






















- 









r 










































Mr. Dexter * ^ * held out his hand for the address. 

Page 251 . 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


*57 


“Yes,” said Laura, “I’ll run and get it for 
you, but you must never tell anybody that I did 
because it would make awful trouble for me.” 

When she returned she found her father, her 
aunt and Harry in the room and for a moment 
she was at a loss what to do, but Mr. Dexter, 
who was anxiously looking for her, held out his 
hand for the address and said, as Laura placed 
the scrap of paper in it, “ Remember, this is 
our secret, my little girl, and Harry is not to 
know anything about it.” 

The way in which he said this and the smile 
with which his words were accompanied stim- 
ulated Harry’s curiosity and at the same time 
served to put the elders off the scent. Then 
the conversation was turned into other channels 
and in five minutes the incident had passed out 
of the minds of everyone but the two concerned 
in it. 

That afternoon Laura spread her writing ma- 
terials on the parlor table and sat down to write 
her regular weekly letter to her dear friend 
in America, Kitty Harriott. She had just writ- 
ten “ Dear Kitty,” when a thought came into 
her mind that caused her to drop her pen and 
sit for a moment in deep meditation. Then 
with cheeks flushed with excitement, she con- 
tinued as follows : 


*58 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“ I hope you are well and enjoying yourself and that all 
the other girls are well too. We are having a splendid 
time here but we have to study as hard as we did at home. 
There is something that I want you to do for me and you 
must never tell any one that I mentioned it to you for it 
is something very mysterious and important. You know 
about Bruce Decker, the young fireman who was in the 
hospital. I have often talked to you about him. Well, 
Papa has made me promise not to write to him and I dare 
not disobey him, but I did not promise that you would not 
write to him, and something has happened which he ought 
to know. I want you to write him a letter and send it to 
the address on the scrap of paper enclosed. Tell him that 
Mr. Dexter and Papa are great friends now and he comes 
to see us every day. This morning I was alone when he 
called and he sat down and we had a long talk. I told 
him what Bruce told me about the Dexter house ( just write 
it that way and he will know what I mean), and he was 
very much interested in what I said and got up and walked 
up and down the room talking to himself but I could not 
hear a word he said. Then he asked me for Bruce’s ad- 
dress and I copied it out and gave it to him right before 
Papa and Aunt Sarah and Harry who had all come into 
the room, and Harry’s wild to know what was on the paper 
I gave him. Now Kitty you must do exactly what I tell 
you. Bruce will know who you are because he has heard 
me talk about you and I’m sure he’s just dying to know 
you. But remember it is important that he should get 
this message right away and nobody must know anything 
about it. If he makes any answer to your note write to 
me at once. No more at present, from 

Your loving friend 

Laura Van Kuren.” 


Chapter XXVIII. 


NT OW the interest which old Mr. Dexter had 
1 ^ betrayed while listening to Laura’s story 
was in reality as nothing compared with that 
which he felt, and when he reached his home 
that afternoon he seated himself by the fire and 
fell into a condition of deep thought. 

Mr. Van Kuren who called on him that even- 
ing found him in his parlor busy with a number 
of old letters, papers and photographs which 
were spread out on the table before him. 

“You see/’ he said as he rose to greet his 
guest, “that even here in Paris, with enough to 
render most men contented, my thoughts go 
back to my old friends and home in America. 
I don’t know whether I shall ever return or 
not ; but of late I have been thinking seriously 
of running over to New York for a week or 
two to settle a little matter of business that has 
been worrying me for a short time past.” 

Mr. Dexter did not explain that the “short time 
past” meant only about eight hours nor did he, 
of course, say what the matter was that troubled 
him but his guest divined that it might be some 


26 o 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


family affair and asked him if that were not the 
case. 

“Well yes,” rejoined Mr. Dexter, “it is a 
family matter, and one that I cannot settle very 
well by mail, though I might write my nephew 
and ask him to attend to it for me.” 

“ Your nephew? ” exclaimed Mr. Van Kuren, 
“why I was not aware that you were even on 
speaking terms with him, and for my part I 
would not blame you if you never have any- 
thing more to say to him.” 

The older man looked up at his visitor, and 
said very gently and with the same pleasant 
smile that always came into his face when he 
spoke to either Harry or Laura, “ My dear 
Horace, when you reach my age you will be 
anxious to settle up all your earthly quarrels so 
that when the time comes for you to leave this 
world you may do so with a feeling that you 
leave no enemies behind.” 

“ But do you mean to tell me,” demanded 
Mr. Van Kuren, “ that you have become a friend 
of that good-for-nothing nephew of yours again ? 
I can’t understand it after the way in which he 
treated you ten years ago.” 

“ You must remember, Horace, that Sam is 
the only blood relation I have left in this world. 
He came to see me a few months before I left 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


261 


America, and I found him so regretful for the 
past, and so much changed for the better that 
1 have now fully as much confidence in him as 
I ever had in my own son.” 

Mr. Van Kuren shrugged his shoulders, and 
after a moment’s hesitation, replied, “ There’s 
nothing in the world that would induce me to 
place any confidence whatever in Sam Dexter, 
even if he is your only blood relation. It is 
entirely through him that the misunderstanding 
occurred which separated us for years, and I 
have heard of him in New York of late 
as connected with some very dubious enter- 
prises.” 

“But my dear Horace,” continued the old 
gentleman, “you must not believe everything 
that you hear. I have no doubt that my 
nephew’s career has not been altogether what 
it should have been ; but that he is thoroughly 
contrite now I have no reason to doubt. When 
he first came to see me I supposed, of course, 
that he was in w*ant of money again, and was 
therefore inclined to be a little suspicious, but 
when he not only assured me, but proved to 
me, that he had a handsome sum laid by out of 
his savings for a future day, that he wanted 
nothing of me, and was only anxious to heal up 
old breaches while I was still alive, then I was 


262 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


forced to admit that he was, indeed, a different 
man from the one whom I had known formerly/’ 

“ Do you mean to say that he never tried to 
beg or borrow anything from you, that is to 
say, since this last reconciliation?” demanded 
Mr. Van Kuren, incredulously. 

“I certainly do mean to say exactly that.” 
replied the other emphatically. “ He is occupying 
the old house at present but that is because I 
asked him to do so. It is not safe to leave one’s 
home in the hands of servants or caretakers.” 

Mr. Van Kuren shrugged his shoulders 
again and remarked, in a tone that showed he 
had no faith in the repentance or sincerity of 
Mr. Dexter’s nephew Well, just mark my 
words, that man will still manage to injure you 
in some way. He is not to be trusted.” 

For a few moments the old gentleman sat 
quietly looking into the fire, then he lifted his 
eyes and said, “ I should be sorry to have as bad 
an opinion of Sam as you have, but it may be 
that you are nearer right in your estimate of 
him than I am. Nevertheless it’s an old 
man’s fancy, and one that should be, for that 
reason, pardoned, to feel that after he is gone 
he will be succeeded at his home and in his 
estate by one of his own blood rather than by 
a stranger.” 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


263 


“And so,” remarked Mr. Van Kuren dryly, 
“you have arranged to make Sam your heir, 
have you ?” 

“Yes that is my present intention. As my 
will stands now, all my property goes to my 
son and as he is dead, Sam as the next of kin 
would inherit it anyway, Therefore I hardly 
think it necessary to write a new one, but will 
destroy the old one, which will throw the prop- 
erty into his hands.” 

“And does he know this?” asked Mr. Van 
Kuren. 

“ I haven’t told him so in so many words, 
but I am sure he must know what my inten- 
tions are. However he has never broached 
the topic to me and I am bound to say that he 
seems to be thoroughly disinterested in his 
regard for me.” 

“In that case,” observed Mr. Van Kuren, 
watching his friend’s face carefully as he spoke, 
“you had better write to him and ask him to 
arrange this little family matter that troubles 
you. At any rate it will save you the trouble 
of making a trip across the water. A journey 
at your time of life and at this season of the 
year might be regarded as almost unsafe.” 

Mr. Dexter made no reply to this remark, 
and there was silence in the room for fully a 


264 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


minute. Then he shook his head slowly, and 
said : “ No, I don’t exactly like to ask Sam to 
help me in this affair, and perhaps, after all it 
would be better for me to write than to make 
the journey myself.” 

“ My dear Mr. Dexter,” said Mr. Van Ku- 
ren, rising from his seat and placing his hand 
on his old friend’s arm, “the mere fact that 
you do not write to him in this matter is a 
proof that you do not fully trust him ; but 
don’t take the trip yourself. Write a letter ; 
this is no season for a man of your age to 
travel.” 

Soon after this the visitor took his leave, and 
the old gentleman sat down at his library table 
and addressed a polite and formal note to 
Bruce Decker, telling him what he had learned 
from a mutual friend, and asking him to send 
him full information concerning himself and 
his family, adding that he very well re- 
membered meeting him before, and hoped 
that he was making progress in the calling 
which he had chosen. Having sealed and ad- 
dressed this letter he sat for some time lost in 
reflection. Then taking up his pen again, 
he wrote another letter to the man 
to whom Mr. Van Kuren had referred as 
“ Sam.” 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


265 


Both these letters reached New York on the 
same day, and were the cause of the strange 
meeting of the two boys, which has been 
described in another chapter. But in the letter 
to his kinsman, Sam, the old gentleman did not 
reveal the address which Laura had given him. 


Chapter XXIX. 


HEN Skinny the Swiper, standing in the 



V V little country burying-ground, looked 
upon the time-stained marble slab, and deci- 
phered the inscription upon it, he opened his eyes 
in wonder, and for the second time within five 
minutes, uttered the exclamation which he kept 
on hand for such emergencies as demanded 
something more vigorous and expressive than 
commonplace English. 

“ Hully gee ! ” was all that this little New 
York street boy had to say ; but coming from 
him it possessed a deeper significance than is 
conveyed by the cold type which spells the 
words. 

First he looked at the grave stone, and then 
he looked at Bruce Decker, and finally he 
asked : “ Wuz dat your mother ? ” 

“Yes,” replied Bruce, simply. 

Skinny said nothing but he thought a great 
deal ; and while he was thinking he scratched his 
head and looked down at the half obliterated 
mound of earth that marked the grave of Mrs. 
Decker. From the very first he had suspected 


266 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


267 


that there was some connection between the 
gallant young fire laddie, who had saved his 
life and carried him from the burning building, 
and the scarred and bearded man who had sent 
him to this remote corner of the world. He 
had not forgotten that he had been solemnly 
charged not to breathe a word to any human 
being in regard to his strange errand, and he 
had an intuitive feeling that if he violated in 
any way the trust reposed in him, his employer 
would learn of it, and mete out to him a terri- 
ble vengeance, instead of the liberal reward 
that he had promised. 

On the other hand, he saw before him the 
boy who had done for him what no one else in 
the world would have done for a friendless, 
ragged child of the streets, and for a moment 
he hesitated as to which of these two masters 
he should choose to serve. To the one he 
owed a certain amount of loyalty — a few dol- 
lars worth, perhaps — but to the other he owed 
his life. He raised his eyes, and encountered 
the clear, honest, truthful ones of Bruce, which 
looked him square in the face, and he hesitated 
no longer. Rough contact with the world had 
taught him to be suspicious of others, and it 
was rare enough in his career that he had en- 
countered any one whom he fully trusted. But 


263 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


there was that in Bruce’s face which caused 
him to say to himself: “ Dat man is all right, 
an’ white, ” which is a high compliment for a 
newsboy to pay any one. 

Having reached the conclusion that Bruce 
was the best friend he was likely to have in the 
world, he took from his pocket the written 
instructions which Mr. Korwein had given him, 
handed the paper to the new master whom he 
had elected to serve, and blurted out: “ Hay, 
boss, ain’t dat de same party ? ” 

To say that Bruce was surprised when he 
saw his mother’s name written in an unknown 
handwriting, and in the possession of his little 
hospital friend but feebly describes his condition 
of mind. 

“ Come over here with me,” he said, as he 
led the way to a low stone wall, somewhat re- 
mote from the couples who were walking up 
and down the paths, laughing and whispering 
and talking. Then, seating himself on a con- 
venient bowlder, he said to Skinny : “How in 
the world did you ever get hold of this 
paper ? ” 

And Skinny in reply told him the whole story 
of the dark-bearded man, who had summoned 
him to his office, and sent him away to the shore 
of the great inland lake, simply to get informa- 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


269 


tion about Mary Decker and her son, if son she 
had. Skinny’s recital occupied nearly a quarter 
of an hour, for he stretched it so as to include 
his adventures while on the road from New 
York, and the circumstances which had led to his 
becoming what he called a haymaker. Bruce 
listened intently to every word the boy uttered 
and questioned him narrowly in regard to Mr. 
Korwein and his motive in entrusting him with 
such a strange commission. Of course Skinny 
could not account for the man’s motives, and, 
indeed, that was something he had not troubled 
himself about. It was enough to him that his 
employer wished to obtain certain information, 
and was willing to pay for it So long as he 
could be well paid for his work he did not con- 
cern himself about people’s motives, or ask 
what would be done with the information which 
he supplied. But he did not neglect to mention 
the fact that in telling as much as he had, he 
had betrayed his employer, and he warned his 
friend to keep strictly to himself all that he had 
told him. Bruce readily agreed to this, and 
then, as the afternoon had already merged into 
twilight, they returned to the village, Skinny, 
passing on to Mr. Wolcott’s house and Bruce 
going to that of the friends whom he was visit- 
ing. 


270 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


The following evening the two boys met 
again by agreement, and, with his friend’s assist- 
ance, Skinny composed and sent to his employer 
in New York the following letter : 

“ Mr. Korwein — 

Dear Sir: — I went up to the cemetery yesterday, and 
seen the grave, which had on it 

Sacred to the memory 
of 

Mary, wife of Frank Decker. 

Born Dec. 1st, 1855, 

Died Sept, 5th, 1877. 

Theae wasn’t no other graves of any folks named Decker. 
I am still on the farm. No more at present. From 

Skinny.” 

Then he entrusted to Bruce his employer’s 
address and bade him good-bye with a parting 
injunction not to let the man know where he 
learned of him ; and with this address in his 
pocket, Bruce climbed aboard a New York 
train, said good-bye to a number of admiring 
villagers who accompanied him to the depot and 
was borne away toward New York, while the 
street boy walked slowly back to the Wolcott’s. 

As the train rolled swiftly along our young 
hero sat with his face pressed against the 
car window looking out into the quiet night and 
thinking over the strange things that happened 
to him of late. To begin with, there was this 


Skinny writes a letter to Mr. Korwein . — Page 270. 



THE THIRD ALARM 


271 


dark bearded man of mystery who, he was 
positive, could tell him everything that he 
wished to know; and who was this ragged news- 
boy whom he had befriended — could it be possi- 
ble that he was simply a hireling of the other 
a d tnat he had been sent to Rocky Point to 
s{ y pon him ? No, he could not doubt Skinny’s 
s ncerity, and the feeling had been growing 
daily within him that through him the mystery 
which enveloped his early days and even his 
origin would finally be cleared up. One thing 
he had determined, and that was that as soon 
as he reached New York he would go to Mr. 
Korwein and boldly ask him — what ? That was 
the trouble. What should he ask him? He 
would feel very foolish saying to that scarred 
and bearded gentleman : " Please sir will you 
tell me who I am and clear up the mystery 
which enshrouds me ? ” 

His mind was still busy with this problem 
when the monotonous motion of the train got 
the better of his senses and he fell into a deep 
sleep. 

And just at that moment Skinny the Swiper 
was lying wide awake in the comfortable attic 
room in which Mr. Wolcott had installed him 
and was asking himself what it all meant. 
Why should Mr. Korwein have sent him up to 


272 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


Rocky Point, and what had he to do with the 
grave of the young fireman’s mother ? For the 
life of him he could not make it out and then 
he wondered if Mr. Korwein would ever find 
out about his treachery and at the thought 
of that great man’s wrath he curled himself up 
in bed, drew the clothes up over his face and 
resolved that he would remain on the farm un- 
til he had changed beyond all recognition. 
“Anyway,” he said to himself, “dis is a better 
place dan de Bowery, because dere’s more to 
eat an’ a place to sleep.” 

And then he too fell asleep and did not 
waken until the daylight was streaming through 
the window over his head and Mrs. Wolcott 
calling to him from the foot of the stair-case. 

The little newsboy found life so pleasant 
during the autumnal weather on the shore of 
Lake Ontario that he began to think seriously 
of settling down to an agricultural life. The 
air was fine and bracing, the food plentiful and 
nutritious aud the farmer and his wife treated 
him with great kindness and did not ask him to 
do more than a boy’s amount of work. Skinny’s 
life had been a hard one, and never in his 
recollection had he had as much to eat or en- 
joyed himself more than he had since his arrival 
in the little country place on the shore of the 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


273 


great lake. Good treatment was something 
that was more of a novelty to him than kicks 
and curses, and when his naturally suspicious 
mind grasped the fact that the farmer and his 
wife were kind to him, not because they ex- 
pected to get the better of him in any way, but 
because it was their nature to be kind to all 
living things, and that they trusted him im- 
plicitly and seemed inclined to trust him so 
long as he proved worthy, it occurred to him 
for almost the first time in his life that there 
were some people in the world who did not go 
about with their hands lifted against such Arabs 
as himself, and he determined to repay their 
confidence with absolute fidelity to their in- 
terests. 

He had remained with them nearly a month, 
and, as has been said already was beginning to 
think favorably of an agricultural life when 
something occurred which drove all ideas of 
rural felicity out of his mind and sent him 
adrift in the world once more. The something 
which served to alter his intentions was a letter 
which came to him one morning in the mail. 
It was from Bruce Decker who wanted to know 
how much longer he intended to stay in the 
country, and whether he could be induced 
to make a little trip to the city for the pur- 


274 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


pose of rendering him (Bruce) an important 
service. 

As the newsboy finished spelling out his 
friend’s epistle, a gleam of delight came into 
his freckled face. Here was another friend 
who treated him like a human being and came 
to him as to some one whom he could trust to 
render him a service. Thrusting the letter 
into the inside pocket of his jacket he buttoned 
that faded and rather rusty garment tightly 
about him and went at once to his employer. 

“ Say, boss, I gotter go ter de city ter night, ” 
was the way in which Skinny announced his 
intended departure. 

“To-night! ” exclaimed the farmer, who was 
accustomed to slow country ways rather than to 
Skinny’s metropolitan swiftness ot action, 
“ What’s the matter ? Don’t we use you right ?” 

“ Use me right ? Why, boss, der aint nobody 
never used me no whiter den you an’ de 
missus, but I’ve gotter go on important bizness 
an’ if yer’ll lemme come back when de biz is 
done, I’ll stop wid yer till I’m a reg’lar hay- 
maker.” 

The farmer saw that the boy was in earnest, 
and although both he and his wife were sorry to 
have him go they made no attempt to dissuade 
him, but fitted him out with a new hat and 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


275 


shoes, and then to the lad’s intense surprise 
handed him a five-dollar note as a present. 

“ Wot’s dis fur ? ” he demanded, looking with 
his keen, suspicious little blue eyes from the 
greenback in his hand to the farmer’s ruddy 
and honest face. He had agreed to work for 
his keep and never before in his experience 
had any one of his numerous employers paid 
him a nickel more than he was obliged to. 

“ You’ve earned it, my boy,” said the farmer 
heartily, “and if you want to come back again 
you’ll find a home for you here the same as 
before. You’ve saved me hiring an extra man 
since you have been here and next summer if 
you choose to pitch in and work the same as 
you have this fall, I’ll do better by you than this.” 

Skinny was a boy of but few words, but 
sometimes he did a good deal of quiet thinking. 
He said but little in farewell to his friends, but 
as he was passing through the gate he turned 
for a last look at the house which had given 
him shelter and at the farmer and his wife who 
were still standing in the doorway and who had 
treated him with so much kindness. 

The night train bore him swiftly to New 
York and by nine o’clock the next morning he 
was standing in front of the superintendent 
of the Newsboys’ Lodging House, in negotia- 


276 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


tion for what he described as “first-class com- 
merdations widder best grub in der place.” 

Having made arrangements for food and 
lodging, the boy started uptown with the in- 
tention of seeing Bruce at the truck quarters, 
but he had not gone many blocks before he 
felt a strong hand on his shoulder and heard a 
stern voice behind him saying : “ And so you’ve 
turned up again, you young rascal ! Now, 
let’s hear what you have to say for your- 
self!” 

The newsboy knew the voice at once. There 
was no need for him to turn his head. He 
felt that the hand of fate, in the person of the 
tall, black-bearded man, had overtaken him. 
But it was not the first time that the hand of 
vengeance or justice had fallen upon him, and 
no one knew better than Skinny that such a 
grasp is not always a sure one. Without even 
turning his head or uttering a single sound the 
boy simply slid out of his jacket, twisted himself 
free and darted around the nearest corner, 
leaving his captor standing on the sidewalk 
with the ragged jacket in his hand and on his 
face a look of rage that it was well for Skinny’s 
peace of mind that he did not see. 

“ I’ll catch him yet, the young vagabond, and 
find out what he’s been doing all this time ! ” 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


277 


muttered the tall man between his teeth as he 
looked down at the shabby garment which re- 
mained in his hand as evidence of the brief 
captivity and sudden, eel-like escape of Skinny 
the Swiper, He was about to throw the‘jacket 
in the gutter, for it would look odd to be seen 
carrying it through the crowded streets, when 
his eye fell upon the corner of an envelope 
protruding from an inside pocket, and thinking 
that it might contain a clue to the boy’s haunts 
in the city, he took it out and examined it. It 
was simply a letter written two days before, but 
it was the signature of Bruce Decker which 
arrested the attention of the man who read it 
and brought a sudden gleam into his eyes. 


Chapter XXX. 


W HEN Bruce returned to New York after 
his short vacation in the country, he re- 
ceived such a hearty welcome from every mem- 
ber of the company, that he realized the fact that 
it is a good thing for one to go away now and 
then if only to indicate the value of one’s ser- 
vices. 

He had not only enjoyed himself during his ab- 
sence and gained new health and strength from 
the clear lake air but he had also proved to the 
chief and his subordinates that he was a de- 
cidedly useful boy. The many little duties which 
he performed about the quarters had been done 
so quietly and unostentatiously as well as effec- 
tively that it was not until he was out of the city 
that the others realized how much trouble he 
saved them. As it was, the men had to burden 
their minds with a number of small details which 
had previously been left entirely in Bruce’s 
hands, and every time that one of them was 
called upon to feed the horses or perform some 
small duty for the chief he thought of Bruce 
and wondered how much longer that boy was 
going to stay away. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


279 


On his return he found awaiting him a letter 
bearing no signature and written in an unformed, 
girlish hand telling him what he already knew 
about the interest which Mr. Dexter had felt in 
him, and although there was nothing in the note 
to indicate its origin, Bruce knew that it must 
have been inspired by Laura herself. And a 
very delightful thing it was to believe that this 
young girl had taken so much trouble on his 
account as to ask somebody in America to 
give him this information. But why did she 
not write to him herself? That is what puzzled 
him, for of course he knew nothing about Mr. 
Van Kuren’s reason for breaking off the inti- 
macy. 

He had scarcely recovered from the glow of 
satisfaction which suffused him, as he read his 
anonymous letter, and thought of the young 
girl to whose kindly interest he owed it, when 
Chief Trask approached him and informed him 
that he was to sleep in the quarters with the 
men in future, in order to be on hand in case 
of a night alarm. 

“ You see, my boy, you’re growing older 
every day now, and I want you to learn this 
business through and through, so as to be 
ready to take a man’s place when the time 
comes. ,, 


2 So 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


And, in accordance with the Chief’s orders, 
which he was only too glad to obey, Bruce 
established himself in the dormitory above the 
truck quarters, and as he placed his head on 
the pillow that night, and saw that his turn-out 
was lying on the floor beside him, he realized 
that, although his name was not on the pay-roll 
of the department, he was really a fireman at 
last, and would be expected to respond to an 
alarm as readily as any of the men in the com- 
pany. 

The next morning as soon he had finished 
feeding the horses, and attended to the other 
small duties required of him, he took his par- 
ticular friend, Charley Weyman, aside and 
told him of his experiences in the little grave- 
yard at Rocky Point. He told him how 
Skinny had been sent there by the man whom 
the newsboy called “Scar-faced Charley,” and 
who was, he was positive, none other than the 
mysterious stranger that Charley Weyman 
himself had first told him about. 

At the mention of this man, Weyman’s face 
assumed an expression of intense interest, 
which deepened as Bruce continued with his 
account of how Skinny had been em- 
ployed to visit the grave in the little burying 
ground and ascertain if possible the where- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


281 


abouts of any living member of the Decker 
family. 

“ And so this ugly-faced chap is taking all 
this trouble to find out whether you were ever 
borned, and if so, whether you are alive or 
dead ?” exclaimed the fireman. “ Well, if it’s 
worth anything to him to find out about you, 
my opinion is that it’s worth just as much to 
you to find out why he is so much interested. 
He was just as much concerned about your 
father that’s dead and gone, and he don’t 
seem inclined to lose sight of the family. If I 
were you, I’d lose no time in finding out what 
it all means. But let me tell you one thing, 
that fellow never brought good luck to any- 
body. Your father was never the same man 
after he had a visit from him, and if you get 
him coming around here after you, you may 
have cause to be sorry for it.” 

“ You know he’s living in the same house 
where I went to call on Mr. Dexter” said 
Bruce, “ and I’ve been thinking of going up 
there to pay him a visit and put it to him fair 
and square, ‘ what do you want of me, and why 
are you so interested in the Decker family ? ’ ” 

For a moment, Weyman remained silent, 
evidently thinking over what the boy had said 
to him. Then he made answer : “ Yes I think 


2$2 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


on the whole that's the quickest and surest- 
way of finding out what you want to know. 
There’s nothing like suddenly facing a man of 
that sort and putting your question to him 
before he has time to frame some answer that 
might suit his own purpose. Likely as not 
if he knew you were coming he’d cook up 
some reply that would throw you off your scent 
but when you come upon him unexpectedly he 
is apt to tell the truth even when it’s contrary 
to his usual practice. Yes I’d go up there if I 
were you because if he’s hunting up for the 
son of Frank Decker he’s bound to come 
across him sooner or later. It’s funny he 
never came around here to ask the Chief or 
any of us about him, and it’s just as strange to 
me that he didn’t find out at headquarters that 
you were drawing a pension. However, I’ve 
noticed that these very smart and tricky fellows 
often over-reach themselves by trying to be 
too smart when they might accomplish some 
thing by being straightforward and honest.” 

Bruce, having slept on the matter, determined 
to take his friend’s advice, and although it was 
more difficult for him to obtain leave of absence 
now that he had become a more useful mem- 
ber of the company than formerly, he soon 
found an opportunity to make the long journey 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


283 


to the upper part of the city where Mr. Dex- 
ter’s house was situated. Leaving the 
elevated railroad, he walked a few blocks out 
of his way in order to pass the gate of the 
great mansion in which Harry and Laura Van 
Kuren had lived The house was closed now, 
aud it was evident from the unkept appear- 
ance of the lawn and shrubbery that it's mas- 
ter had been away for some time. 

For several minutes he stood leaning sadly 
upon the gate and thinking of the kind friends 
whom he had known there, and from whom he 
was now separated not only by the trackless 
waste of ocean, but also by something he knew 
not what, but which was nevertheless an in- 
visible and impassable barrier, It was with a 
sad heart that he finally turned his back on 
the Van Kuren mansion and walked rapidly 
along the same highway which he had last 
trodden in company with the Van Kuren 
children and their tutor on that day when 
he discovered that Mr. Dexter had departed 
for Europe. 

Once more he entered the bread gate and 
made his way along the winding road through 
the dense shrubbery to the door of the stately 
old colonial mansion. A servant answered 
his ring of the bell and said in response to his 


284 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


inquiry that Mr Korwein lived there nominally 
but spent most of his time down town, the 
woman did not know where. Sometimes she 
did not see him for a week, and then he would 
appear suddenly, remain with them three or 
four days without quitting the house, and then 
disappear to be gone perhaps a week or two 
longer. She had no idea where his office was 
and did not know when Mr. Dexter would re- 
turn. Having vouchsafed this information, she 
closed the door, and as her young visitor de- 
parted, he heard the bolt sharply snap behind 
him. 

Before leaving the grounds, Bruce walked 
to the corner of the house and refreshed his 
memory with another long look at the old vine- 
clad porch which had attracted his attention 
on the occasion of his first visit and had sug- 
gested to his mind the long search upon which 
he was still engaged. There it was just as 
when he had last seen it, just as it was when 
he saw it in those long gone by childish days. 

He returned in a rather disconsolate mood 
to the quarters and told Weyman the result of 
his visit. 

“ Nevermind,” said the latter, “you mustn’t 
expect to learn every thing all in a hurry. 
Go up again there the next time you can get 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


285 


away tor an afternoon and you may find him. 
Anyhow while there’s life there’s hope, and if you 
can’t find him there you may run across him 
down town some time. Keep your eyes open 
whenever you go about the streets, and you’ll 
find him some day when you’ll least expect 
him. I never go out without looking for him 
myself. ,, 

Bruce paid two more visits to the Dexter 
mansion without learning anything further, and 
it was then that he sat down and wrote the let- 
ter to Skinny asking him how soon he ex- 
pected to be back in town again, the effect of 
which has been shown in a preceding chapter. 


Chapter XXXI. 


BOUT one hour after the brief but violent 



** sidewalk encounter already described, a 
small and ragged street boy entered Chief 
Trask’s quarters, cast a searching eye over the 
group of men who were assembled there, and 
then walked quickly over to Bruce Decker, who 
was at work, can in hand, oiling the wheels of 
the chiefs wagon. 

“ Is dis your name, boss ? ” he inquired, as 
he handed to him a letter, enclosed in a dirty 
yellow envelope, on which was written, in 
sprawling, uncertain characters, the words : 


Bruce Decker, 


In Care of Hook and Ladder. 

The young fire lad opened the message, and 
deciphered the following sentence : 

“ Cum down and meet me at Lyonse’s, and eat supper 


to-night. Wot time will you come? 


Skinny.” 


“ Dere’s an answer ter dat,” said the boy, as 
Bruce finished reading the note. 

“Very well, then, tell him I’ll be with him at 
six,” he said, and the young ragamuffin de- 
parted, while Bruce resumed his work on the 


3*6 


iO 



“ Dere’s an answer ter dat, 



f f 


said the boy . — Page 286 . 





















r. 

































* 















































• 











































































THE THIRD ALARM. 


287 


chiefs wagon, amazed and delighted to get an 
answer in such a short time to his letter. The 
afternoon seemed to pass very slowly, and at 
half past five he obtained the chiefs permission 
to go out for a little while, and bent his steps 
immediately to Lyons’s, a restaurant on the 
Bowery, which Skinny visited once in a while 
when he was prosperous enough to treat him- 
self to a substantial meal. 

Bruce found the little newsboy standing in 
front of the open door. 

“I got your note yesterday, an’ here I am,” 
was Skinny’s greeting, as the two boys shook 
hands. “ I cum right on de minute I knowed I 
wuz wanted here,” he added, “an’ what’s more 
I’ve got dat mun’ yer let me have de time we 
cum outter de hospital,” and he handed four 
dollars and twenty-two cents to his companion, 
with a distinct look of pride. 

It pleased Bruce very much to feel that his 
humble little friend was so honest and so willing 
to do his bidding, and he said so in a hearty, 
straightforward manner that Skinny readily un- 
derstood. Then they entered the restaurant, 
selected a quiet table, in an obscure corner, and 
sat down to a nice supper, Skinny acting as 
host for perhaps the first time in his life. And 
as they ate they talked, the newsboy describing 


288 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


his experiences on the farm, and Bruce plying 
him with questions about the different country 
people he knew. 

Never before in his life had Bruce felt so much 
like a character in a story book as he did now, 
and even Skinny remarked that the situation 
reminded him of a similar one in his favorite 
romance u Shorty, the Boy Detective.” 

It was the first time that the newsboy had 
ever entertained anyone at a dinner as sump- 
tuous as the one which he now offered to the 
young lad whom he admired and liked as he 
liked and admired no other human being. He 
recommended all the most expensive dishes 
on the bill of fare, ordered the waiter around 
in a way that brought a broad smile to that 
functionary’s face, and “showed off” in so many 
other ways that Bruce, who was at heart a 
modest and unobtrusive young chap, finally 
felt constrained to ask him to attract less 
attention, and conduct himself with more de- 
corum. 

The fact was, that Skinny “ felt his oats ” as 
they say in the country. He was very proud 
to be called in as a sort of advisory counsel in 
such a delicate and important matter as the one 
which now occupied Bruce’s mind, and he was 
ready enough to give his friend the full benefit 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


289 


of his long experience in the city and really 
remarkable knowledge of the habits of crooked, 
crafty and dangerous people. Young as he 
was, the newsboy had long since learned the 
great lesson of eternal vigilance, and he knew 
well enough that the man whom he called 
“ Scar-faced Charlie 99 was not one in whom 
implicit confidence should be reposed. 

He listened attentively as Bruce described 
his visits to the Dexter mansion, and then said 
to him “ Wot’s de matter wid bracin’ him in his 
Eldridge Street joint ? ” 

“ But I don’t know where it is” replied the 
other. 

“ Come along wid me, an’ I’ll show yer ” said 
Skinny quickly, and, having paid the check and 
handed the amazed waiter a quarter, coupling 
his gift with an admonition to “hustle lively” 
the next time he had any visitors of distinc- 
tion to wait on, the newsboy led the way 
down the Bowery which was by this time 
crowded with people and brilliantly lighted, 
to Grand Street, and then in an easterly 
direction to a corner from which he could see 
the building in which Mr. Korwein had his 
office. 

But beyond this corner Skinny positively 
refused to go. Plucky as he was, and heedless 


290 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


of results, he had a profound fear for the big 
strong man out of whose stern grasp he had 
wriggled that very day. 

“ You go over dere, an’ brace de old bloke. 
I’ll wait here. He’s dere, fer de light’s in the 
windy,’’ he said. And Bruce was forced to 
make his visit alone. 

Never before in his life had he gone about 
any task that so tried his nerves as this one, 
and it was fully five minutes before he could 
make up his mind to open the door and enter 
the money-lender’s dingy office. At last, how- 
ever, his will conquered his fears, and he 
marched boldly up the steps, opened the door 
and closed it behind him with a sharp bang. 
Mr. Korwein was standing behind the tall desk 
adding up a long column of figures in his led- 
ger. He looked up as the boy entered and said 
rather roughly : “ Well, what can I do for you 
this evening? ” 

“ I’m not quite sure what you can do for 
me ” rejoined his visitor, looking him carefully 
in the face and speaking in a tone which ar- 
rested the tall man’s attention at once. “I 
heard that you are making some rather partic- 
ular inquiries about me, and I thought if there 
was anything you wanted to know, I might be 
able to tell you myself.” 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


291 


“ Inquiries about you ! ” repeated Mr. 
Korwein, dropping his pen and coming out 
from behind the tall desk, in order to get 
a good view of his visitor, “why, who are 
you ? ” 

“ My name is Bruce Decker, and I am the 
son of Frank Decker, the fireman ” was the 
boy’s answer. 

Not much in the words he uttered nor in the 
tone of his voice, one would say. But enough 
to drive every particle of color from the money- 
lender’s face and to cause him to start back 
with a half suppressed oath on his lips, and an 
expression in which rage, disappointment and 
astonishment seemed to be blended in equal 
parts. 

“ Frank Decker’s son ! He never had any 
son ! ” he exclaimed. 

Oh yes he did,” replied Bruce” and I am 
that son. I heard you were looking for me. 
Now that I am here, tell me what you want.” 

“ And so you are really Frank’s boy are you” 
said the money-lender, speaking in a more con- 
ciliatory tone and evidently trying to recover 
his equanimity, “well I am glad to see you, 
glad to see you. I’ve been looking for you be- 
cause, because — to tell the truth, there is a lit- 
tle money coming to you, not much my boy, 


29 s 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


not very much, but something. It was left to 
your father, and by his death goes to his next of 
kin. If you are really his son, you are entitled 
to it. But I must have proof you know, proof, 
before I can pay it over. Where do you live, 
my boy? Let me know your address and I will 
look you up and see that you recieve every cent 
that is your due.” He wiped the perspiration 
from his face as he entered with much care in a 
memorandum book the address which Bruce 
gave him, which was that of Chief Trask’s house 
and not of the boy’s. And then, declaring that 
he conld say no more until he recieved absolute 
proof that Bruce was what he represented him- 
self to be, he opened the door and ushered his 
visitor out into the street. 

Bruce stood for a moment on the sidewalk, 
utterly bewildered by what he had heard. 

“Well, did yer brace de bloke ? " de- 
manded Skinny appearing suddenly in front of 
him, 

“Yes, ” answered Bruce “and he told me he 
had some money to pay me that was left to my 
father,” 

“Hully gee’’ exclaimed the boy. “Better 
look out though dat yer get all wot’s cornin’ to 
yer Dat Scar-faced Charlie don’t never pay 
bills in full.” 


Chapter XXXII 


T N his private office in the poor, shabby build- 
* ing, in which for reasons best known to 
himself he had chosen to establish his place of 
business, the tall saturnine black bearded and 
altogether mysterious character known already 
to some of our readers sat busy with books 
and letters. 

In the outer office his bookkeeper stood at 
his tall desk pausing now and then to talk to 
those who came in, intent on some business 
errand, and once in a while referring some 
particular person to his master who sat in the 
inside room. 

It was just twelve o’clock and during the 
morning all sorts of people had been coming 
and going in and out of that dingy little place 
of business. Some of the visitors were well 
to do in appearance while others looked as if 
poverty and misfortune had long since claimed 
them as their own. Some were men and others 
women, and there were three or four children 
among the clients of the place. If the visitors 
were noticeable for any one thing it was for 


294 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


the stealthy and mysterious manner in which 
they entered and made known their wishes to 
the bookkeeper who stood guard at the outer 
office. This functionary, by the way, seemed 
to be well acquainted with nearly every one 
that called, and he usually had a word of greet- 
ing that was sometimes pleasant sometimes 
sarcastic and often contemptuous. To a man 
with a cast in his eye who slouched cautiously 
in after having scanned the neighborhood 
from under his hat for at least three minutes 
before entering, the bookkeeper said jocosely : 

“Well what have you got for us to-day ? 
Any nice loose diamonds or a few watch 
cases ? ” 

“ Hush !” exclaimed the visitor warily as he 
laid his finger against his nose, “you’re always 
talking foolishly. Can I have a word with the 
boss to-day?” 

“ I guess so ; you’re a pretty good customer 
here. So you may walk right in.” The visitor 
tip-toed into the private room, closed the door 
behind him, drew his chair up beside the tall 
saturnine man who was still busy with his pen, 
and whispered something in his ear that caused 
him to sit bolt upright and gaze sharply and 
with amazement in the face of his visitor. For 
fully an hour the man with the cast in his eye 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


2 95 


remained in the inner office and when he finally 
withdrew, the other accompanied him to the 
door and stood for a moment talking earnestly 
to him in a low voice before he permitted him to 
depart. Then he went back to his desk, and 
his face as he passed through the room, was 
so stern and troubled that one or two visitors 
who were seated awaiting his pleasure viewed 
him carefully, then shook their heads and de- 
parted, preferring to talk to him at some time 
when they should find him in better humor. 
As for the visitors they all came with one 
object in view which was money, for the well 
dressed man who sat at the desk in the inner 
office made a business of lending money at 
exorbitant rates of interest and on all sorts 
securities. 

“ But why,'* some reader might inquire, 

4 ‘should a man of good connections and educa- 
tion embark in such a business and select as 
his headquarters a dirty cheap office in a pov- 
erty stricken part of the town ? ” 

And the reply is that he selected a neighbor- 
hood in which he knew money to be a scarce 
commodity, and which all his clients, the high 
as well as the low, could visit without fear of 
detection. As has been already said he had 
clients of various classes. There was one man, 


296 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


for example, who could be found almost any 
evening in some fashionable club or drawing- 
room up town and who, on the very morning of 
which we write, had spent nearly half an hour 
in that little private office. This man had 
debts amounting to $25,000, and a father whose 
fortune of a million he had reasonable hopes of 
acquiring in due course of time. But his father 
was a man of the strictest honor, and the son 
well knew that if he were to hear of his losses 
at cards and horse racing he would cut him off 
without a dollar, and leave all his money to a 
distant cousin whom he had always detested. 
Situated as he was, this man found the money- 
lender of Eldridge Street a most convenient 
friend, and it was an easy matter for the latter 
to persuade him that for the use of ten or fif- 
teen thousand dollars in cash with which to 
appease the most importunate of his creditors, 
he could well afford to give a note for five 
times the amount payable after the death of 
his parent. 

“And even now,” continued the money 
lender, shaking his head as he handed him a 
large roll of bills, “ I am taking risks that I 
ought not to take with you or with anybody 
else. How do I know that you will outlive 
your father ? How do I know that the old man 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


297 


will leave you anything when he dies ? How 
do I know even that he has got anything to 
leave, or that having it now he will have it a 
year hence ? These are ticklish times, and if I 
were a prudent business man, without anything 
of the speculator in me, I would just hang on to 
what money I’ve got, and let you and the rest 
of them like you shift for yourselves. I’ve half 
a mind now/’ he added, suddenly, as he tight- 
ened his grip on the greenbacks, which had not 
quite passed out of his hand, “ to tear your 
note up and put the money back in my safe.” 
But at this threat his visitor snatched the cov- 
eted roll from his hand, placed it in his inside 
pocket, and buttoning his coat up tightly, ex- 
claimed, “ Don’t talk to me about the chances 
you take, Mr. Shylock, when you know per- 
fectly well that I’m good for anything I put my 
name to, and that it won’t be long before you 
get your own again with a pound of my flesh 
into the bargain.” 

It will be seen from this conversation that the 
mysterious bearded man had a keen eye for 
business, and as his little shop was full of cus- 
tomers from morning till night, one may readily 
believe that he made a large income with 
very little mental or physical exertion on his 
part. 


298 


THE THIRD ALARM'. 


It was just one o’clock when, having disposed 
of his visiter with the cast in his eye, the money- 
lender sat behind his desk with his cigar in his 
mouth, lost in thought. Something must have 
troubled him for his brow was ruffled and from 
time to time an angry blush crept into his 
cheek. One might have noticed too — had 
there been any one there to notice him — that 
he started uneasily at every sound that came 
from the little outer room and finally when he 
heard a woman’s voice raised in shrill anger he 
stepped to the door, listened for a moment or 
so and then come out to see what was the 
matter. It was an old Irish woman who stood 
with a package in her hand talking angrily to 
the bookkeeper. 

“ An’ sure you’ll not refuse a poor old woman 
the loan of a ten dollar note on these little bits 
of things?” she was saying in a voice that 
betrayed her peevishness and annoyance. 

“ Can’t give you anything to-day, madam,” 
returned the bookkeeper speaking very posi- 
tively and then, noticing his employer he added, 
‘‘There’s the boss himself, and he’ll tell you 
the same thing.” 

But the “boss” had already caught a 
glimpse of the old Irish woman’s face, and to 
the intense surprise of his subordinate he re- 


THE THIRD ALARM 


*99 


treated suddenly into his private room, banged 
the door after him and then thinking better of 
his act, opened it wide enough to say in a low 
and guarded whisper, “ Give the old woman 
what she wants and bring the package in 
to me. Get her address, too. while you’re 
about it” 

The bookkeeper did as he was ordered. 
And as the old woman wrote her name on the 
receipt with trembling fingers she uttered : 
“ Now remember, I’ll be back for this when my 
allowance comes. But me friends are coming 
back from Europe soon and they will never let 
old Ann Crehan go hungry. They’ll all be 
back, the master and Miss Emma and the two 
young children and then I’ll have everything I 
want. An’ it’ll be a sorry day for that hard- 
hearted spalpeen who forgot the one who took 
care of him and will let her go to the poorhouse 
for the want of a few dollars. Sure his fine 
old uncle would never threat me in that 
fashion.” 

As the old woman departed, the clerk took 
the package into the inner office and laid it be- 
fore his employer, and the latter before open- 
ing the paper shut and bolted the door. He 
found nothing within but a few thin and worn 
silver spoons and an old fashioned open-faced 


3 °° 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


gold watch. Inside of the case was the follow- 
ing inscription 

“ FOR fidelity and courage 

TO ANN CREHAN 
FROM SAMUEL DEXTER.” 

Well did that strong, bearded man, whose 
face, with its deep lines and heavy, overhanging 
brow, was an index to his passionate, wilful 
nature, know what that inscription meant. It 
carried him back in memory to a bright, spring 
morning, years ago, when this same old woman, 
whose tottering footsteps had just passed over 
his threshold, was a servant in the family of his 
kinsman, Samuel Dexter, with whom he, an 
orphan boy, had found a home. Well did he 
recall that day, and the accident through which 
he might have lost his life had it not been for 
the courage of the Irish servant, who rushed at 
the peril of her own life, into a burning build- 
ing, and snatched from the flames the two chil- 
dren who had been committed to her care. 

The fierce red scar across his cheek had re- 
mained a vivid reminder of that day, and he 
remembered how, throughout his youth and 
early manhood, he had always hated his young 
kinsman, who had been with him in the flames, 
but who had escaped without disfigurement. 
Well, the kinsman had long ago passed to his 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


301 


final reward, and he was living still, with the 
red scar on his face but half concealed by the 
thick, stiff beard. He folded up the paper con- 
taining the watch and the pieces of silver, and 
put the package carefully away in his safe. 

“ It’s a lucky thing for me, that the old crea- 
ture didn’t recognize me when I put my head 
through the door,” he said to himself. “ I'll 
have to be more careful in the future about 
showing myself down here, for one never knows 
who is going to turn up. Everybody wants 
money, and there are none too proud to come 
down here to this dirty street and ask for it. It’s 
a great thing, money, and it’s the lack of it that 
puts all men on the same footing.” 


Chapter XXXIII. 


HEN one is young and life still seems 



V Y new and fresh and full of bright, ever- 
changing hues, a few months seem a long 
period, and one that often brings with it 
many changes. 

And so the year that the Van Kuren chil- 
dren spent abroad was not without its effect 
upon them. During that time they had trav- 
elled through England, France, Italy and 
Germany, and, under the guidance of their 
father and their tutor, had learned much of 
the countries through which they passed, and 
of the history and customs of the different 
people. With minds naturally bright and 
retentive, both Harry and Laura had derived 
much more profit from their journeyings in 
foreign lands than most people do, and al- 
though they had seen so much and enjoyed 
so many things, they were both heartily glad 
to return to their own country. 

It was on a bright, sunny morning in the 
early winter that the steamer in which Mr. 
Van Kuren had taken passage for himself and 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


3°3 


family, sailed up the superb harbor of New 
York, while the two children stood on the 
deck, almost screaming with delight as they 
recognized such familiar landmarks as the 
Brooklyn Bridge, Trinity steeple, the Produce 
Exchange, and even caught a distant glimpse 
of the Palisades. A tall column of smoke 
rising from the heart of the great city caught 
their eye. 

“ What makes that smoke ? ” said Harry, to 
his tutor who was standing beside him. 

“ I don’t know,” replied Mr. Reed, doubt- 
fully, “ But I think it must be a fire. Yes, 
the smoke is growing denser every moment 
and now we can see bits of flame in it too.” 

“ I wonder if Bruce Decker is there, helping 
to put it out,” exclaimed Harry, impulsively. 
“ I tell you it must be grand to be running to 
the fires all the time. I wonder how Bruce 
is getting along, anyway. Don’t you think 
it’s funny we haven’t heard a word from him ? ” 

Laura did not reply at first but seemed to 
be interested only in looking intently at the 
familiar features of the scene about her, but 
when Harry repeated his question she re- 
marked carelessly, “ Oh I suppose he’s too 
much occupied with his own affairs to bother 
about us. Anyway, Harry, it is not necessary 


304 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


for us to see him any more. He is very well 
in his way, but not nearly so refined and ele- 
gant in his manners as those children we used 
to play with in Paris. Just compare him with 
little Victor Dufait for example. Why Victor 
was the politest boy I ever saw in my life, 
and it would be a good thing for Bruce, and 
you too, to copy his manners.” 

“Well I’d rather copy Bruce than that 
little frog-eating Frenchman, any day !” cried 
Harry. “ You think he’s all right just be- 
cause he bows and scrapes and grins every 
time he sees you coming. But if you were 
to play with him and the rest of those fel- 
lows, as I did, you’d soon find out that they’re 
not half as nice as they seem. Besides, I’ll 
bet that Bruce could lick any two of them 
with one hand tied behind his back.” 

“Well, there are better things than being 
able to lick other boys, even wdth both hands 
tied behind your back,” rejoined Laura, “and 
I think that Victor is one of the nicest boys I 
ever met.” 

“ Well, you can have him for all I care, but 
I’d like to see Bruce again, and as soon as we 
get ashore I’m going down to hunt him up.” 

“You will do nothing of the sort, Harry,” 
interjected Mr. Reed, in a tone of quiet de- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


3°5 


termination. “You may remember, perhaps, 
that your father has forbidden you to have 
anything to do with that young Decker, and 
I am quite sure that you at least, Laura, have 
not forgotten the circumstances which led to 
his making that rule. So I particularly cau- 
tion you not to set your hearts upon renewing 
an acquaintance which your father does not 
consider a desirable one, and my advice is 
not to mention the matter in his presence.” 

The tutor’s words ended all discussion of 
the young fireman, and very soon afterwards 
the children went down stairs to make their 
final preparations for landing. Laura had 
been partly in earnest in what she said about 
Bruce. She had made the acquaintance of 
several boys of foreign parentage during their 
stay in Paris, and had been greatly impressed 
with their polished manners and glib tongues. 
Victor Dufait, whom her brother despised, 
was a lad well calculated to awaken the ad- 
miration of any girl unused to superficial 
elegance of manners. Always handsomely 
dressed and neat in his appearance, he was to 
all outward appearances as gentlemanly and 
modest a lad, as one could hope to meet, but 
the boys who played with him knew that his 
politeness was, as they expressed it, “ all put 


$o6 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


on,” and that among lads of his own age, or 
younger, he could be selfish, ill-natured, and 
vindictive. Many a time had Harry, while 
playing with him and other boys of his sort, 
thought regretfully of the manly, good-na- 
tured, and companionable Bruce Decker, who, 
although of much more humble origin than 
the little foreigner, possessed a much truer 
breeding — that which comes from a good heart 
and kindly intentions. 

From the steamer Mr. Van Kuren and his 
family went directly to a large and fashionable 
hotel on Broadway, intending to remain there 
until their own house could be repaired and 
put in thorough order. The children con- 
tinued their studies under the direction of 
their tutor and an English governess, who 
had accompanied them home from London, 
and every afternoon went out to walk in the 
streets. Sometimes Harry and Mr. Reed en- 
joyed long strolls along the river front, where 
the boy never wearied of looking at the great 
ships and little fishing sloops, as they lay at 
the docks, and sometimes the two went down 
into the poorer portions of the town, where 
Mr. Reed pointed out to him the habitations 
of different races of people, and explained to 
him their curious modes of living. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 307 

Sometimes Laura accompanied them, when 
they walked along the principal avenues or 
through Central Park, but as a general thing 
she went out with her governess, and some- 
times invited some young girl of her own age 
to accompany her. She was walking in this 
way one afternoon, talking to a richly dressed 
young girl, and accompanied by the prim- 
looking governess, when her young compan- 
ion drew her attention to the fact that some 
one was trying to attract her attention. Laura 
looked up hastily and beheld Bruce Decker 
standing with his hat in his hand and a rosy 
flush on his cheeks almost in front of her. 
The governess was looking in wonder at the 
presuming young man, and the young girl be- 
side her was beginning to laugh, for to tell 
the truth, Bruce presented an appearance that 
was not at all like that of little Victor Dufait. % 

“ How do you do, I did not know you were 
back from Europe,” began the boy. But to 
his amazement Laura, who had always treated 
him in a most friendly manner, simply stared 
him in the face, bowed to him very coldly, and 
then walked on with her eyes turned in an- 
other direction, and a look in her face that 
was anything but pleasant or cordial. And 
as she passed on she realized that the boy 


308 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


was standing stock still on the pavement be- 
hind her, amazed beyond expression at the 
way in which he had been treated. She 
knew, moreover, that what with her an- 
noyance at her companion’s sneers, and her 
fear lest the English governess should tell 
her father of the chance meeting, she had 
treated Bruce with a degree of harshness, 
which she never intended, and she would have 
given almost anything — at least it seemed so 
to her at that moment — to have been able to 
live the past few minutes over again. 

It is no easy task to describe Bruce Decker’s 
feelings, as he stood in the middle of the 
pavement on Fifth Avenue, and watched the 
retreating form of the young girl, whose 
friendship he had once prized so highly. His 
cheeks grew redder and redder, as he thought 
of the glance she had given him, and the in- 
solence of her manner. Then he glanced 
down on his clothes, and his hands reddened 
and hardened with toil, and said to himself, 
“ Well, I suppose I’m not stylish enough to 
suit her now that she’s been across the water, 
and mixed up with all sorts of foreign peo- 
ple.” It seemed very hard to the boy, how- 
ever, that he should be despised just because 
he did not wear fashionable clothes, and he 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


309 


said to himself with some bitterness of spirit, 
“ I suppose I could rig myself up in fine style 
for less than a hundred dollars, and be as 
good a dude as any of them.” 

It was with this feeling in his heart that he 
walked slowly away, and then — for his brain 
did not stop working merely because of some 
trifling rebuff— it occurred to him that if there 
was only a hundred dollars difference between 
him and a dude, the obstacle was not an im- 
possible one to surmount, and that a few years 
of hard work would convert him into a very 
superior quality of dude, and would thus en- 
able him to regain the friendship and esteem 
which he was positive Miss Van Kuren once 
entertained for him. With this cheerful view 
of the case he lifted his head bravely, and 
walked on toward the truck quarters with 
swift and resolute steps. He said nothing 
to his friend Charles Weyman in regard to 
his chance meeting. In fact, he did all he 
could to forget it himself, but he had been 
too deeply wounded to put all recollection of 
the young girl’s coldness to him aside, and 
the memory of that chance meeting rankled 
in his breast for many weeks. 


Chapter XXXIV. 


NE cold, dreary, windy evening, the tall, 



dark, bearded man left the office on the 
East side, where he was known as “ Scar-faced 
Charlie,” and turned his face in the direction 
of the fine mansion in the upper part of the 
city, where he was known to the servants, the 
tradespeople, and a few of the neighbors as 
“ Samuel Dexter,” a relative of the kindly old 
gentleman who owned the house. Passing 
through the broad gate and along the winding 
road, he emerged into an open space in front 
of the mansion, and saw to his surprise that 
lights were gleaming through the windows of 
the elder Mr. Dexter’s library, a room which 
was seldom opened during the owner’s ab- 
sence. 

The bearded man had been away for two 
or three days, and, thinking that the servants 
had taken advantage of his absence, to make 
use of an apartment into which he seldom 
penetrated himself, he quietly let himself in 
at the front door, and stepping across the 
hall, threw open the door of his uncle’s 


_ 310 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


3 11 

study, intending to administer a severe rebuke 
to whomever he might find within. 

But the angry words died away unuttered 
on his lips, and he started back with a look of 
amazement and chagrin, as Mr. Dexter, Senior, 
rose from an easy chair by the fire and came 
forward to greet him. 

“ Why, my dear uncle, I had no idea that 
you were in this country/' exclaimed the new 
comer, as he recovered himself sufficiently to 
grasp the hand that was extended to him, and 
assume something that resembled at least a 
pleased expression of countenance. 

“ I only arrived this morning,” replied the 
other, “and so I thought I would treat you 
to a pleasant surprise.” 

That his coming had proved a surprise, if 
not an altogether pleasant one, was quite ap- 
parent to the elder Mr. Dexter, who had nar- 
rowly watched his nephew’s face and noted 
the quick change of expression that passed 
across it as he entered the room. Since that 
evening in Paris, when he had addressed to 
him a letter of inquiry, several things had oc- 
curred to convince the old gentleman that his 
kinsman was not treating him in a straight- 
forward manner. He had replied to the letter, 
it is true, but in such a way as to make it 


312 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


apparent that he either had not troubled him- 
self to fulfill his uncle’s request, or else that 
he was concealing from him the information 
which he possessed. It was partly because of 
these suspicions which had taken possession 
of his mind, and partly because he was ex- 
tremely anxious to learn more about Bruce 
Decker, that Mr. Dexter, Senior, determined 
to cut short his stay in Europe, and return at 
once to New York. 

He had landed early that morning, and one 
of his first duties had been to go and see Ann 
Crehan, the old woman who had once been a 
nurse in the Van Kuren family, and who was 
supported now by them and by himself. The 
poor old creature poured into his sympathetic 
ear a sad tale of destitution. One of her re- 
mittances had failed to reach her, and in order 
to tide over a brief period, she had applied 
to the younger Mr. Dexter for a loan, but 
without success. Then, not wishing to have 
her true condition made known to her neigh- 
bors — for the poor are far more sensitive than 
the rich, — she had made up a little package of 
a few old pieces of silver-ware and the gold 
watch she cherished above all her earthly pos- 
sessions, and taken them down to Eldridge 
Street, where “an ould blood-letting scoun- 


THE THIRD ALARM . 313 

drel ” had loaned her a few dollars on 
them. 

The old creature had but one anxiety now, 
and that was to recover her lost trinkets, and 
her benefactor readily promised to come the 
very next day — for his foreign money was not 
then exchanged — and bring her the funds 
that would enable her to do so. 

On his way up-town that night, Mr. Dexter 
thought with bitterness and regret of the in- 
gratitude shown him by the nephew, whom 
he had intended to make his heir. 

“ He might have spared a few dollars for 
old Ann Crehan, if not on my account on his 
own, for it was she who saved his life when 
he was merely a boy, and a man must be hard 
hearted indeed, who can forget such a serv- 
ice.” 

But despite his feelings he said nothing to 
his nephew about the old nurse, nor did he 
allude to the evasive reply which had been 
sent to him in Paris. On the contrary, he 
greeted his kinsman pleasantly, and chatted 
with him in his usual easy and amiable fashion 
until the time had come for them to separate 
for the night. 

When the old gentleman descended to the 
breakfast-room the next morning, he found 


3M 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


that his nephew had gone down-town, leav- 
ing word with the servant that he might be 
detained that night until a late hour. 

Mr. Dexter accordingly breakfasted alone, 
and then called his carriage, and was driven to 
the elevated railroad station, where he took a 
train to the lower part of the city. It was 
twelve o’clock when, having attended to sev- 
eral matters of business, he betook himself to 
the East side tenement house, in which Ann 
Crehan lived. The old woman shed tears of 
joy when he told her he had come to redeem 
her little package of valuables, and, having 
taken from her the receipt and the address of 
the money-lender, he set out for Eldridge 
Street. Picking his way through the crowd 
of children who swarmed in that thickly set- 
tled part of the town, and sniffing the air, 
which was redolent of garbage and garlic and 
decaying fish, the old gentleman shook his 
head and sighed to think of the stern neces- 
sities which compelled the poor to live in 
such a quarter and in such a fashion. 

“ And what sort of a man must this money- 
lender be?” he said to himself. “I cannot 
see how a man, with any feelings at all in his 
heart, can deliberately establish himself in this 
quarter and devote his life to loaning money 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


3*5 


to these unfortunate creatures at rates of 
interest which, I doubt not, are exorbitant. 
Well, he will receive no exorbitant interest 
from me on the ten dollars he loaned to poor 
old Ann, for I know what the laws on usury 
are.” 

It was with this feeling in his heart that 
Mr. Dexter entered the shabby-looking office 
on Eldridge Street and, handing the receipt 
to the bookkeeper behind the tall desk said 
“ Mrs. Crehan wishes to repay her loan and 
get back the package which she gave as se- 
curity.” 

The bookkeeper glanced sharply at the 
receipt and then at the well-dressed, prosper- 
ous looking gentleman who presented it, and 
then went into the inner office, took the 
package from the safe and brought it out. 

“Twelve dollars if you please” he re- 
marked, in his brief business-like way. 

“You loaned ten dollars on these articles, 
less than a month ago, and now you ask for 
twelve dollars. Do you charge twenty per 
cent, a month interest?” said Mr. Dexter in 
firm, quiet tones. 

“ It’s twelve dollars or you don’t get the 
stuff,” retorted the accountant in a surly 


voice. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


316 

“ You had better be very careful, sir, or you 
may get into trouble,” rejoined Mr. Dexter 
speaking very sternly, and looking the other 
squarely in the face. " I am familiar with 
the usury laws of the State and they are very 
explicit, in matters of this sort. I advise you 
to hand me that package without a moment’s 
delay and accept the sum of ten dollars and 
twenty-five cents, which is interest at the rate 
of two and one-half per cent, a month and 
more than you are really entitled to.” 

“ I will do nothing of the sort !” said the 
old clerk raising his voice so that it reached 
the ears of his employer in the inner office, 
“ and if you don’t care to pay the twelve dol- 
lars you may go about your business, and I’ll 
put the package back in the safe.” 

“ I’ll not pay any such outrageous charge ! 99 
screamed Mr. Dexter, at the very top of his 
voice, “ and what’s more if you hesitate one 
minute longer I’ll go out and make a com- 
plaint against you to the proper authorities.” 

But just at this moment the door of the 
inner office was thrown open and the money- 
lender came out exclaiming “ What does all 
this noise mean ? What do you mean, sir, by 
coming into my place of business 99 

“ There’s the boss now himself. You can 


% 



THE THIRD ALARM. 


3i7 


settle the matter with him,” remarked the 
bookkeeper, triumphantly. But to his sur- 
prise his master neither spoke nor stirred, 
and he was even more surprised to see Mr. 
Dexter gaze fixedly at him for a moment or 
two and then exclaim in tones of burning 
contempt, “ And so this is the business that 
you conduct, is it? Lending money to these 
poor people and then charging them the most 
outrageous rates. I suppose you thought 
you could take advantage of this poor old 
woman who saved your life at the risk of her 
own when you were a mere child in arms ! 
I believed in you Samuel in spite of the 
warnings that I received. But now, I have 
done with you forever. My servants will 
gather your effects together and send them 
to you, but I forbid you to enter my premises 
again under any consideration whatever.” 

Trembling with indignation, and with his 
face suffused with a high color, the old gentle- 
man picked up the package containing Ann 
Crehan’s little treasures, laid the sum of ten 
dollars and twenty-five cents on the desk and 
departed, slamming the door behind him as 
he went out with such violence that every 
window-sash in the room rattled. 

And then the tall, sinister looking man re- 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


3 1 3 


entered his private den, threw himself down 
upon a chair, and with his head bowed in 
an attitude of hopeless dejection muttered : 
“ Everything has slipped from me just as I 
thought it was within my grasp. There is 
but one hope left, and that is the boy. ,, 


Chapter XXXV. 


HEN old Mr. Dexter reached his home 



* » that afternoon, he called one of his 
servants and ordered him to gather all of his 
nephew’s possessions together and pack them 
up, to be sent away to an address which he 
would give them. At the same time he in- 
formed them that if his kinsman should call, 
he was not to be admitted to the house on 
any pretense whatever. Having done this, 
the old gentleman sat down in his library and 
wrote a letter to his lawyer, who was also a 
warm personal friend of many years’ standing, 
and invited him to visit him the next day, in 
order that they might dine together, and at 
the same time discuss an important matter of 
business. This business was nothing less 
than the drawing up of a new will, which 
should deprive his renegade kinsman of any 
chance of profiting by his death. Never in 
his whole life had the warm-hearted and be- 
nevolent old gentleman been so stirred with 
shame and indignation as he had that day by 
the sudden discovery that his nephew, who 


320 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


was of his own flesh and blood, and bore his 
name, was making his livelihood by loaning 
money to poor and unfortunate people at 
usurious rates of interest. That a man of 
proper breeding and right feelings should 
take advantage of the necessities of the un- 
fortunate, stirred Mr. Dexter’s soul to its 
inmost depths. 

As for the money-lender, he realized as 
soon as his uncle had left the office and 
slammed the door behind him, that in all 
probabilities he would never see the inherit- 
ance of which he had for so many years based 
his hopes. However, there was one chance 
left to him, and he determined to try it before 
abandoning all expectation forever. He must 
see Bruce at once, for it was possible that, 
through this boy, he might once more obtain 
influence over his uncle. Taking his hat and 
cane, he left his office and hurried away to 
the address which Bruce had given him, and 
it was there that he learned that the boy had 
found employment in the very truck-house in 
which his father had worked before him, and 
where he had often visited him. 

“ That was stupid enough in me,” he re- 
marked, angrily, to himself, as he strolled 
along toward the quarters. “ I might have 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


321 


known that the boy's first thought after his 
father’s death would have been to look for 
some sort of a job in the department. If I 
had only made inquiries there instead of 
sending that rascally newsboy up into the 
country, I would have found him long ago, 
and might have had him out of the way by 
this time, if I had seen the necessity for it.” 

As he entered the building, Charley Wey- 
man recognized him, and went upstairs to 
look for the boy. “ He’s down there, Bruce,” 
he said, significantly. 

“ Who’s down there ? ” demanded the young 
lad, looking up from the book which he was 
reading. 

“ That tall chap, with the scar on his face, 
that you’ve talked about so often. And, mark 
my words, he means you no good. But you 
go down and see what he has to say, and then 
tell me about it before you give him any 
promise or agree to do anything that he asks 
you to.” 

“ But perhaps he’s not going to ask me 
anything,” replied the boy. “ It may be that 
he’s come here to do me a favor.” 

“ Don’t you believe it ! ” retorted Weyman. 
“ That man never goes anywhere unless it is 
to get something from somebody. If he 


322 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


offers to do you a favor, be mighty careful 
how you accept his offer.” 

Bruce went downstairs, and was very cor- 
dially greeted by the mysterious man who 
had caused him so many sleepless nights 
since the first time he had heard of him. He 
was surprised now to find him so agreeable 
and kindly in his manner, and in a few mo- 
ments he forgot his good friend’s caution, and 
found himself talking to the money-lender as 
freely and easily as if he had known him all 
his life. He told him all that he knew of his 
origin, and mentioned the fact that he hardly 
knew anything about his father’s family or 
friends. “ I came down here soon after my 
father’s death, and the chief took me on here, 
got my pension for me, and has kept me here 
ever since. When I’m old enough I hope to 
join the department, and perhaps rise in it.” 

“What pension is that?” asked Mr. Dexter, 
with a sudden gleam of interest in his face. 

“ The department pays it to me because 
my father was killed in the service,” replied 
the boy. 

“ Then there is no doubt about your being 
the son of Frank Decker, I suppose,” rejoined 
the other, in what seemed to Bruce like a tone 
of disappointment. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


32 3 


“ Of course not,” he replied. 

“Very well, then,” continued the visitor, 
“so much the better for you, for you will 
have no trouble in establishing your identity. 
As I told you the other day, a legacy left to 
your father by some distant relatives in Eng- 
land has fallen to you ; but in order to get it 
you will be obliged to go yourself to London, 
prove who you are, and collect the money in 
person. I knew your father very well indeed, 
and it was simply on account of my friendship 
for him that I have taken the trouble to look 
you up. I sent that little rascal of a newsboy 
up to the country to search for you ; and if 
he had done what I told him to do, or if you 
had come to me at once, you might have ob- 
tained possession of your inheritance by this 
time, to say nothing of saving me a great deal 
of unnecessary trouble. However, I suppose 
you could not have helped that.” 

“ Indeed, sir,” said Bruce, very humbly, “ I 
went up to your house two or three times 
but could not learn your address, and it was 
only when Skinny came back to the city that I 
found out where your office was. It was very 
kind of you, I’m sure, to take so much trouble 
for me, and when I get this money I will very 
gladly pay you for what you have done.’* 


324 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“Never mind the pay,” exclaimed the 
money-lender, magnanimously, “ I’m willing 
to do a great deal for the son of my old friend. 
Now, I suppose you have not enough money 
to pay for your journey to London and back, 
have you ? ” 

Bruce was forced to admit that he had not 
sufficient funds for such an undertaking, and 
on learning this, the visitor went on : “ Very 
well, I will advance you enough for your pas- 
sage there and back and other necessary ex- 
penses, and you can repay me when you 
receive your legacy. I suppose you might 
get it by sending a representative there, or 
engaging some well-known London lawyer, 
but that would cost you just as much as to 
take the trip yourself, and besides those 
English people are not like Americans, and 
are very slow in their business methods. And, 
after all, a boy of your age ought to enjoy a 
little trip to Europe and back. It won’t come 
in your way very often, especially when there’s 
nearly five thousand dollars at the other end 
of the route.” 

Nearly five thousand dollars! To the 
young fire-lad, who had been accustomed all 
his life to the most rigid economy, this seemed 
like an enormous sum of money. And the 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


3 2 5 


prospect offered him so unexpectedly of ob- 
taining it for himself, and at the same time 
making a journey to England almost stunned 
him. He was aroused from his stupor by 
Mr. Dexter, who asked him how soon, he 
would be able to start. 

“Any time you say,” he replied, and then 
added hastily, “ provided, of course, that Chief 
Trask has no objection.” 

At the mention of the chief’s name Mr. 
Dexter’s brow clouded, and he exclaimed in 
what Bruce thought rather a contemptuous 
and disagreeable tone, “Well, if he is a true 
friend of yours, he won’t object to your mak- 
ing such a journey as I propose, and if he 
does object, I should think five thousand dol- 
lars would be worth more to you, than any- 
thing you’ve got here.” 

“ I’ll ask him,” said the boy, “and let you 
know to-morrow. I don’t think he’ll put any 
obstacle in my way.” And with this under- 
standing the two parted, the money-lender re- 
turning to his office, and Bruce going at once 
to lay the matter before his friends, Charley 
Weyman and the chief. 

Both these men declared, after careful con- 
sideration of his case, that he could not do 
better than accept Mr. Dexter’s proposition, 


3 2 6 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


provided that gentleman paid him in advance 
enough to cover the expenses of his journey 
to England and back. “ You don’t risk any- 
thing, you see,” said Weyman, “and he does, 
He wouldn’t send you off on a wild-goose 
chase, if it cost him anything to do so. In 
fact, you’ve everything to gain and nothing 
to lose, and it’s not every day in the year 
that a boy like you gets the chance to travel 
in foreign parts at somebody else’s expense. 
Just tell him that you’re ready to go, and 
keep a sharp lookout for anything that may 
turn up.” 

The next day, accordingly, Bruce called on 
Mr. Dexter at his Eldridge Street office, and 
made known to him the decision of his friends. 
“ I’m ready to go whenever you think best,” 
he added, “ but, of course, as I haven’t any 
money, you will have to give me a return 
ticket, and money enough for my expenses 
while I’m there.” 

“ Certainly, my boy,” said Mr. Dexter, with 
his most winning smile, and as there is a 
steamer that sails next Saturday for South- 
ampton, I will engage your passage on that. 
Get ready to sail at three o’clock on that 
day, and, meantime, I advise you to keep on 
at your regular work and not mention to 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


327 


anybody what I have told you. Some one 
might start up and contest that will and keep 
you out of your rightful dues for ten years. 
When you get your hands on the money, you 
may talk about it as much as you please.” 

And so the young boy returned to the 
truck quarters, and resumed his regular work, 
although he could scarcely drive out of his 
mind the wonderful intelligence that the 
money-lender had conveyed to him. Mean- 
time, Samuel Dexter seated in his Eldridge 
Street office, was writing a long letter to the 
old gentleman who had driven him from his 
house. 

“There!” he exclaimed, as he sealed the 
envelope, “ I think that letter will bring him 
to terms if nothing else will. 


Chapter XXXVI. 


COLD, bitter night, with the snow fall- 



ing swiftly and silently, only to be caught 
up by the tempestuous bursts of wind, and 
swept into heavy drifts of dazzling whiteness. 
It was snowing hard all over the great city of 
New York, up-town as well as down. And 
in the open space in front of the fine old 
mansion in which Mr. Dexter lived, it had 
gathered in great heaps, on which bright 
streams of light shone from the curtained win- 
dow of the comfortable library. But cold and 
dreary and desolate as it was without, within 
this richly furnished room was warmth, com- 
fort and hospitality. The master of the house 
was lying with a shawl thrown over his slight 
figure, upon a couch, which had been drawn 
up in front of the great open wood-fire, and 
about him were gathered three or four of his 
best friends. 

Mr. Van Kuren was there, and his sister, 
whom the children always addressed as “ Aunt 
Emma,” and who, on account of her deli- 
cate health, seldom ventured far away from 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


329 

home. It must have been business of import- 
ance that brought her from the great hotel, 
in which they were staying, to this mansion 
above the Harlem river, on such a cold and 
tempestuous night. Another guest, a portly, 
grey-haired, smooth-shaven man of judicial 
aspect, was the lawyer, who had been sum- 
moned by Mr. Dexter, in order to draw up a 
new will. Neither of the Van Kuren children 
were present, Harry having been sent away 
on a short trip with his tutor, while Laura 
had remained at the hotel in the care of her 
English governess. 

On a table, which had been drawn up close- 
ly to Mr. Dexter’s lounge, was an open letter, 
which each member of the company had care- 
fully scrutinized in turn, and with many ex- 
pressions of indignation and distrust. It was 
the letter which the money-lender had writ- 
ten and sent from his office at Eldridge 
Street, and which had been so cruelly plan- 
ned to excite and distress the kindly old gent- 
leman, that not only his lawyer, but his in- 
timate friends, the Van Kurens, had been 
hastily summoned. The doctor fearing that 
the shock might prove serious, if not fatal, to 
the venerable patient. 

“I am inclined to think, on the whole,” 


33 ° 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


said Mr. Van Kuren, after he had examined 
the money-lender’s letter for the twentieth 
time, “ that there is not a word of truth in 
what he says, and that this has been written 
simply in the hope of bringing about a recon- 
ciliation with you. You know what my opin- 
ion of your nephew is and always has been. 
I told you when we talked the matter over in 
Paris that he was not a man to be trusted, 
and I was not at all surprised to learn that he 
had been running his little pawnshop down 
on the east side, and, I have no doubt, swin- 
dling every one of the unfortunates who are 
compelled by their necessities to deal with 
him. If I were you, I would throw this letter 
into the fire, and dismiss all thought of the 
matter from my mind. Don’t you agree with 
me, sir?” he added, turning to the kindly 
lawyer, who had been an attentive listener to 
his words. 

“ No, Horace,” said Mr. Dexter, “ I am 
inclined to think that there is some truth in 
what my nephew — rascal that he is — has 
hinted at, and that brings me to speak of a 
conversation that I had with your daughter 
Laura at the time that we were so much to- 
gether in Paris. I did not mention this be- 
fore, because she regarded it as a secret, and, 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


33 1 


I suppose, did not care to have her interest 
in the matter known.” 

Both Mr. Van Kuren and his sister smiled 
broadly at the thought that Laura, whom they 
regarded as a volatile and rather foolish 
young girl, should have been able to give 
their old friend any important or reliable in- 
formation on a subject of vital importance to 
him, and Miss Van Kuren rejoined: '‘I 
wouldn’t pay too much attention to my niece, 
if I were you, for she has, like most children 
of her age, some very romantic and silly no- 
tions.” 

“ But I assure you,” exclaimed Mr. Dexter, 
earnestly, “ that what she told me on this oc- 
casion made quite an impression on me — an 
impression which has been growing stronger 
and stronger ever since. It was in Paris, one 
morning when I called at your apartment, and 
there was no one there but Miss Laura. She 
intimated that she had something of import- 
ance to say to me, and when I encouraged 
her to go on she told me a story about a 
young boy of her acquaintance who, having 
come up to see me on an errand, recognized, 
or fancied that he recognized, the house and 
grounds as something that he had seen in his 
earliest childhood. 


332 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


“ She gave me his address, and I actually 
wrote him a letter asking him to give me such 
information as he could about his family, but 
I never received any reply, for it was not long 
afterwards that I left Paris for Switzerland 
and Italy, and subsequently sailed for New 
York. It is just possible, therefore, that his 
letter may be at this very moment following 
me about the continent of Europe. I was 
rather inclined to believe that there was some 
grain of truth in the story, because I remem- 
bered the young lad myself quite distinctly, 
and he had a pleasant, bright, open face, and 
did not seem to be the sort of a boy who 
would invent a piece of pure fiction and try 
to palm it off as the truth.” 

“ Who was the boy ? Do you recall his 
name?” said Mr. Van Kuren. 

“ Certainly I do. He is employed in the 
fire department in some capacity, and his 
name is Bruce Decker, and there was just 
enough similarity between his name and mine 
— Dexter and Decker — to suggest ” 

“ Bruce Decker ! ” interrupted Mr. Van 
Kuren savagely ; well, I can tell you from my 
own personal experience with that young ras- 
cal, that he is quite capable of inventing any 
story, and of deceiving you with it as well. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


333 


And so he took Laura into his confidence, 
did he? Well, I have no doubt he answered 
your letter, and you will be very fortunate if 
he doesn’t hunt you up, and establish some 
sort of a claim on you, before you realize 
what he’s doing! Now I’ll tell you my ex- 
perience with that bright, honest-looking, 
open-faced young scamp. He got acquainted 
with my children, I think it was by picking 
Harry up in the road one afternoon, when he 
met with an accident, and I asked him up to 
dinner, so that I might see for myself, what sort 
of a boy he was. As you know quite well, I am 
very democratic in my ideas, and I don’t want 
Harry to grow up with a notion that he’s 
made of better clay than the boy whose coat 
is not quite as good as his. In fact, I have no 
objection to his playing with boys in humbler 
circumstances than himself, providing only 
they are decent and honest, and as this 
Decker lad made a very good impression on 
me — for there is no denying that he has a 
good face and decent manners — I saw no rea- 
son why he should not come to the house now 
and then, and I was glad to have Harry go 
and visit him, when he was laid up in the hos- 
pital. The first thing I knew, the young 
vagabond had repaid me by entering into a sly 


334 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


correspondence with Laura, and I discovered 
that she had actually been down to the hospital, 
to call on him, without saying a word to either 
her aunt or myself. As you can well im- 
agine, I put a stop to the intimacy without a 
moment’s delay, and as I never heard either 
of the children mention the boy’s name again, 
I concluded that they had dismissed him from 
their thoughts, as I had from the house. Now 
it seems though that he has found some 
means of communication with Laura, and has 
been filling her head with this romantic story 
about recognizing your house and grounds. 
Well, I shall put a stop to that, I can tell you, 
and I am very sorry to think that Laura 
should disobey me, as she evidently has.” 

“ My dear Horace,” exclaimed Mr. Dexter, 
raising himself with some difficulty as he 
spoke, “ I am very sorry I said anything that 
will get your daughter into trouble, and I am 
sure that what she learned from this lad she 
learned from his own lips before you forbade 
the intimacy. In fact, if I remember rightly, 
she said as much to me herself. I still have 
the young man’s address, and to-morrow 
morning, or as soon as my health will allow 
it, I will either go to see him or send for him, 
and you may be sure that I will learn exactly 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


335 


how much truth there is in this story that he 
tells. Meantime, let me beg of you to say 
nothing to Miss Laura, for it would really 
break my heart to think that I had been the 
means of getting her into trouble.” 

The old gentleman seemed to be so deeply 
in earnest that both Mr. Van Kuren and his 
sister readily promised to accede to his wishes, 
and Mr. Van Kuren was even induced to 
forego the intention he had formed of going 
the very next morning to the quarters of the 
hook and ladder truck, and lodging a com- 
plaint with the chief of the battalion. 

It was late when they finished their discus- 
sion, much later than they had thought, and 
as they arose to take their leave, a servant, 
coming in with an armful of wood for the fire, 
informed them that the snow had accumula- 
ted in such heavy drifts, as to make the roads 
almost impassable. 

And this information was confirmed by a 
glance through the window at the storm 
which was raging without. 

“ You must not think of going home to- 
night ! ” exclaimed Mr. Dexter. “ It will 
never do for you in the world, my dear Emma, 
to think of going out into such an awful storm 
as this. No, there are plenty of rooms in 


336 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


the house, and I will have fires built at once, 
so that you will be just as comfortable as you 
would be at that big hotel you’re stopping at. 
Not one of you shall leave the house to- 
night.” 

“ But just think of poor little Laura all 
alone in that great, big hotel,” exclaimed 
Miss Van Kuren. “Suppose anything were 
to happen to her ; why, I would never forgive 
myself to the last day of my life for leaving 
her there. And just fancy a fire breaking out 
in that place in the middle of the night ! No, 
I really think that I ought to ” 

“You’ll stay where you are, all of you,” 
put in the hospitable old gentleman, in a 
voice that was full of pleasant authority, “ and 
as for the hotel, it’s warranted strictly fire- 
proof. And I’m sure Laura is just as safe 
there as she would be if you were with her.” 

And so it was settled that the Van Kurens 
and Mr. Dexter’s lawyer should remain all 
night. And an hour later the last light was 
extinguished in the old mansion, and there 
was no sound to be heard about it save the 
raging of the storm. 


Chapter XXXVII. 


IT is the unconsidered trifles of life which 
* oftentimes shape human destinies. 

And what trifle is there of less importance 
than a window-curtain swayed by the mid- 
night breeze ? 

There was such a curtain swinging idly in 
the window of a dimly lighted room as the 
clocks in the tall church towers tolled the 
solemn hour of midnight. The wind was 
high now, and the snow, which had been fall- 
ing for nearly six hours, was heaped upon the 
roofs of the tall houses, and lay in huge drifts 
about the streets, while the flakes which filled 
the keen winter air were blown so sharply in 
the faces of pedestrians that men found walk- 
ing possible only by keeping to the middle of 
the street, and bending their heads down to 
the sharp blasts. Now and then a policeman, 
muffled up to his eyes, walked along, trying 
the doors of shops and other places of busi- 
ness to see that thieves were not busy during 
the storm. 

As the night wore on, the passers-by ap- 


337 


338 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


peared at rarer intervals, and the snow, un- 
disturbed by man or beast, allowed itself to 
be whirled and twisted by the wind into fan- 
tastic shapes, that changed with every fresh 
gust. One o’clock sounded from many a 
brazen tongue, and the wind, as if it heard in 
the sharp, vibrant note a new signal, seemed 
to grow suddenly in strength and swept across 
the city with fiercer and louder blasts, while 
the snow fell in blinding masses on roof and 
pavement. 

The same wind coming with awful fury 
up the broad, deserted avenue> struck with 
full force against the splendid hotel, and pour- 
ing through the half-open window in the dimly 
lighted room set the white window-curtain 
swaying and flapping with renewed life. 

“ An awful night for a fire ! ” muttered a 
belated citizen, as he mounted his doorstep 
and shook the snow from his clothing in his 
marble-tiled vestibule. 

It was indeed an awful night for a fire, but 
the cold and weary citizen dismissed all anx- 
iety from his mind, and sought his bed, happy 
in the knowledge that there were scattered 
about the great sleeping city fire-engines, with 
swift horses to draw them, and companies of 
vigilant, courageous men ready to hurry to 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


339 


the scene of disaster at a moment’s warning. 
And very soon the belated citizen slept too, 
while the storm outside raged with increased 
fury, and the snow swept down from the 
heavens and was piled in great drifts beneath 
the shadows of the tall building. 

And down in Chief Trask’s quarters nearly 
a mile away Bruce Decker slumbered peace- 
fully, with his turnout on the floor beside him, 
while the horses stamped uneasily in their 
stalls, and the two men on watch sat close to 
the stove and talked in low tones about fires 
that they had known on just such windy, 
snowy nights in years gone by. Outside the 
truck-house the wind howled dismally, and 
the snow swept through the street in pitiless, 
blinding gusts, while up-town the same blasts 
paused for a moment in their northerly flight 
to play with the white window-curtain that 
was swinging and flapping now with increased 
violence in the half-lighted chamber. 

And throughout the storm Bruce slept as 
calmly as a child, knowing nothing of all that 
that window-curtain meant for him. A gust 
fiercer than the others tore the light band which 
held the curtain to the wall and sent it flutter- 
ing against the gas jet. It blazed up and 
caught the woodwork about the window and 


340 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


then another gust of wind, pausing in its 
swift flight to the far north, scattered the 
blazing particles about the room, and fanned 
the flames that were eating their way through 
the handsome woodwork. Outside, beneath 
the window where the curtain had flapped for 
a moment before, the snow lay in huge un- 
trodden drifts. There was no one there to 
note the blaze which had started in the room 
on the fifth floor, nor was there any chance 
watcher in the silent houses over the way to 
give the alarm. 

It was twenty minutes after one when the 
idle wind blew the curtain against the flame, 
and at precisely twenty-five minutes of two a 
servant rushed, bareheaded, into the street, 
and, breaking for himself a path through the 
heavy drifts of snow, made straight for a 
lamp-post with red glass in its lamp that stood 
two blocks away. There was a red box on 
this lamp-post, and, although his fingers were 
numb with cold, the servant had it open in 
a jiffy, and in another second had pulled down 
the hook which he found inside. Before he 
had removed his hand from the box the num- 
ber of the station had been received at head- 
quarters and the night operator had sent the 
alarm to the companies in the immediate 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


34i 


vicinity of the fire. A few seconds later half 
a dozen truck and engine companies, warned 
by the electric current, had started from their 
quarters and were on their way through the 
fierce, pelting storm. The men were buttoning 
their coats and pulling their fire-helmets well 
down over their heads as they were borne on 
truck and engine through the silent streets. 
There was no time for ceremony or roll-call 
in the houses into which the electricity had 
come with its dread warning. Not one of 
those men against whose stern, set faces the 
wind blew the keen flakes of snow, knew 
what awaited him at the end of this midnight 
journey. They were actuated by but one 
purpose, and that was to be at the fire as 
soon as possible. 

And as the firemen bore down in swift 
flight from the four points of the compass 
upon the doomed structure, servants went 
hurrying through the corridors, knocking on 
every door and arousing the sleeping guests 
with shrill cries of “ Fire ! ” Men, women, 
and children were emerging from their rooms, 
some calm and cool, others stricken with an 
awful terror, some in their night-clothes, and 
others partly dressed, and all hurrying as fast 
as they could to the staircase or elevator. 


342 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


And then a cry went up in every corridor, 
“ The elevator’s afire ! Make for the stair- 
case ! ” 

It was indeed true. The elevator shaft, 
acting as a draft like the tall chimney of a 
manufactory, had drawn the flames toward 
itself with resistless force, and the fire was 
now roaring and raving up the square shaft, 
burning the woodwork and spreading destruc- 
tion from floor to floor. 

A stranger, seeing the awful conflagration 
that had broken out so suddenly on that night 
of storm and snow, would have said, without 
hesitation, that the city was doomed to a repe- 
tition of that hurricane of smoke and flames 
that swept through Chicago years ago, and 
left of that fair city nothing but a waste of 
smoking ashes. The most destructive of all 
elements had begun its deadly work, and who 
could say what limit there would be to the 
destruction of life and property which would 
result ? 

But, happily for the sleeping city, there 
was arrayed that night against the devouring 
flames, the Fire Department of New York — 
the bravest and brainiest of men, armed with 
the finest appliances that modern science 
could produce — and it was with a knowledge 




“The horses bounded to their places .” — Page 343 . 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


343 


of that fact and with a confidence in the cour- 
age, skill and fidelity of this branch of the 
municipal government, that men and women 
throughout the snow-covered town slept on 
peacefully throughout the storm. 

And the electricity flashing along the wire 
from the headquarters up-town entered the 
silent truck house ruled by Chief Trask, and 
with one stroke of the gong transformed it 
into a scene of activity. The men who were 
on watch on the ground floor, sprang from 
their seats by the stove, and the horses, re- 
leased by the electric current, bounded to 
their places, three in front of the heavy truck, 
and one between the shafts of the chief’s red 
wagon. 

And the same alarm which rang out in the 
lower floor, sounded also in the room above, 
where the men lay sleeping. Bruce heard it 
just as he was dreaming of the old days in the 
village beside Lake Ontario, and he sprang 
to the floor, and struggled into his turnout, 
before he fairly realized that he was in New 
York, and not in the country. But, quick as 
he was, he was not a second ahead of the 
other men, and as he slid down one of the 
shining poles, he found that fully half the 
company had got down before him. By this 


344 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


time the horses were all in their places, and 
the men had just finished hitching. The 
alarm was still ringing on the gong, and al- 
though Charley Weyman leaped to his place 
in the driver’s seat, the company did not start. 
It was a first alarm, but not one on which they 
were due. For a few moments they waited, 
while the horses tugged and strained at their 
bits, and stamped on the wooden floor in their 
eagerness to be off. Then the second alarm 
came, and Tom Brophy, who was at the 
wheel, drew on a pair of heavy woolen mit- 
tens, while the men pulled their thick caps 
down over their heads, and Weyman ex- 
claimed, “ Look out, fellows, we’ll get a third 
for that, sure ! ” 

Bruce had watched these preparations with 
considerable excitement, and at the sugges- 
tion of one of the men, had pulled on a heavy 
skull-cap, and buttoned his thick overcoat 
close up to his neck. He was trembling vi- 
olently, but whether it was from the cold or 
excitement he did not know. He had never 
been out on a third alarm before, and the 
thought that the very next minute might send 
him out into the biting storm on an errand 
such as the one that had cost his father his 
life, sent the blood tingling through his veins. 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


345 


“ Jump in, Bruce ! ” 

It was Chief Trask who said this. And as 
the boy made answer he continued in his 
sharp soldierly voice, “ If we get a third alarm 
I want you to come with me in the wagon.” 

The words were scarcely out of his mouth 
when the brass gong sounded for a third time, 
and almost instantly the doors were thrown 
back with a roar and rumble, there was a 
rattle of the ropes which supported the har- 
ness, as Weyman pulled his reins with a sharp 
and sudden jerk, and Bruce, who by this time 
was seated in the chief’s wagon with his 
superior officer beside him, felt the horse 
bounding forward, and the next moment was 
out in the blinding storm. 

Strange to say he had kept his wits about 
him and knew in what part of the town the 
alarm-box from which the signal had come 
was situated. As they passed over the 
threshold, Chief Trask turned the horse 
sharply to the left, and then without a word, 
placed the reins in the boy’s hands, stooped 
down and drew his helmet from under the 
seat of the wagon, and put it on, and then 
buttoned his jacket tightly about his neck 
and peered forward through the falling snow 
trying to catch a glimpse of the distant fire. 


346 


THE TH7ED ALARM.' 


“And now my chance has come/’ said Bruce 
Decker to himself, for what with the cold air 
in his face and the necessity for careful driv- 
ing, his excitement had vanished, and he felt 
as cool as one of the snowflakes that settled 
on his cheek. “ I’m going to a big fire now, 
and I’m going to make a record if it costs 
me a leg.” 

And he drove on through the snow with 
Chief Trask sitting in silence by his side, and 
the hook and ladder company thundering 
along close behind them. 

“Turn here?” he said to his superior as 
they drew near a broad thoroughfare leading 
up-town. 

“Yes, and hurry up too,” was the reply, 
and as he pulled the horse’s head around 
at the intersection of the two streets, he saw 
several blocks ahead of him a brilliant, ruddy 
glare on the white snow that showed where 
the conflagration was. He knew at once that 
it was a big fire, and just then Charley 
Weyman, 'who had been rapidly gaining on 
him, turned his horses to the left and at- 
tempted to go by him. This was something 
the boy had not been looking for ; he well 
knew that bad as it was to be beaten in the 
race to a fire by a rival company, it would be 


THE THIRD ALARM, 


347 


still worse to be passed on the way by his 
own truck which he was supposed to lead. 
Charley was driving the three strong horses 
that belonged to the apparatus, and Bruce 
held the reins over a sturdy black that had 
been recently added to the quarters for the 
chiefs special use. In an instant he had 
grasped the whip from its socket, and brought 
it down on the broad, snowflaked back in 
front of him, causing the animal to bound for- 
ward at a slightly increased gait, but not fast 
enough to prevent Charles Weyman’s team 
from creeping slowly up to him. Again he 
swung his whip, and they raced along, the 
boy driving with so much vigor and skill that 
he soon forged ahead, and took a lead of fully 
twenty yards, which he maintained until they 
reached the scene of the disaster. Then he 
pulled up. The chief leaped to the ground, 
and just then the truck thundered along with 
the captain standing on the turntable close 
to the driver into whose ears he had been 
shouting his orders. 


Chapter XXXVI. 


S the chief leaped from his wagon, Bruce 



** realized for the first time the extent of 
the conflagration which they had been called 
upon to subdue. From the upper windows 
of the hotel streams of smoke were issuing, 
while in others he could see the half-clad 
forms of men and women who were looking 
out and shouting to those in the street below 
for assistance. 

The sidewalk in front of the main entrance 
was already thronged with people, many of 
whom were only partly dressed, and had 
evidently been aroused from their beds by 
the alarm of fire. One or two of them carried 
bundles in their hand, and there were some 
who had dragged their trunks down the stairs 
and out into the roadway, and were now 
sitting on them, regarding, in a bewildered 
fashion, the progress of the fire. 

And now the people in the windows above 
began to throw satchels and other light 
articles out into the street, and one or two 
of them fell near enough to the spot where 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


349 


Bruce was sitting in his wagon to make it 
apparent to him that he had better move 
away. His horse was panting and sweating 
from the exertion of his run, and so the boy 
threw a heavy blanket over him, and then 
hitched him to a lamp-post a block away. 
Then he returned to the truck, and stood for 
a moment watching the streams of water 
which the firemen were turning on the 
hotel. 

Chief Trask, who, at the moment of his 
arrival had reported to the deputy in charge 
of the fire, now appeared and ordered his 
men to come up at once and open the roof ; 
and, in obedience to this command, some of 
them seized axes and others hooks and en- 
deavored to force an entrance into the build- 
ing next door to the hotel. But the door 
resisted their attempts, and then Chief Trask 
briefly ordered them to get the ram. 

The ram, a heavy-headed iron shaft, with 
handles projecting on either side, was brought 
from the truck, and in the hands of three or 
four of the strongest men of the company, 
soon proved formidable enough to demolish 
the heavy front door, and afford the firemen 
means of access to the building. In they 
went, with roof-ropes and hoisting tools, Bruce 


35 ° 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


following with his iron hook in his hand ; and 
as soon as they had broken their way to the 
staircase, they went up on a swift run and 
were not long in reaching the skylight. In 
an instant they had unfastened the scuttle 
and were out on the roof in the midst of the 
wind and the snow. Beside them towered 
the wall of the hotel, fully twenty-five feet 
above the roof, on which they were standing. 

“ Cap, get up a thirty-five-foot ladder for 
that roof, as quick as you can ! ” commanded 
the chief ; and in a moment a long rope was 
uncoiled, and one end thrown over the edge 
of the building to the men below. To these 
the chief shouted his directions, lying at full 
length on the snow-covered roof, and bending 
his head down over the cornice in a difficult 
attempt to make himself heard. Then a 
thirty-five-foot ladder, with the end of the 
rope tied around its sides and under its 
middle rounds was reared against the wall, 
and with a strong pull the chief and his 
followers pulled it up until it was within their 
reach. 

Once on the roof, the ladder was speedily 
raised, and placed as securely as it was pos- 
sible to place it against the wall of the burn- 
ing hotel. Then, with the chief leading and 


THE THIRD ALARM \ 


Bruce bringing up the rear, the men made the 
ascent, and stood at last on the parapet of the 
building, from which they descended to the 
tin roof. The smoke was rising about them 
now in dense clouds, and the chief knowing 
that the hotel itself must be filled with it, 
ordered his men to begin at once the task of 
breaking skylights and ventilators and cutting 
a hole in the tin roof to serve as a vent. 

To this task the firemen bent themselves 
with characteristic energy, cutting a big square 
hole with their axes, and then turning back 
the tin with their hooks. This done, it was 
an easy matter to break through the boards 
and plaster that formed the ceiling, and thus 
give a vent to the smoke and flames. In the 
meantime other axemen had demolished one 
of the scuttles, so that dense clouds, enlivened 
here and there by brilliant tongues of fire, 
were pouring out through the two huge 
openings. 

As the men stood resting after their labors, 
and waiting for further orders from the chief, 
Bruce crept along to the edge of the roof, 
and leaning over it looked down into the 
street below. He could see that fully a dozen 
fire-engines were at work now. He could 
hear the noise they made, and it sounded like 


352 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


the distant strokes of so many pile-drivers. 
The police had arrived by this time, and 
driven the crowd back from in front of the 
hotel, leaving none there but the firemen and 
some of the escaping guests. The snow 
which lay so white and pure on the roofs and 
in the other streets that were within his range 
of vision, was trampled into a black slush, 
while the heat of the flames had already 
melted some of the drifts that lay close at 
hand. 

A fire-escape, connecting the different sto- 
ries of the burning building, attracted his at- 
tention, and it seemed to him to be crowded 
with frightened people who were hurrying 
down it as fast as they could, some carrying 
bags or bundles, while others who had not 
even taken time to dress, were in their night 
clothes, and apparently perfectly oblivious of 
the awful storm of wind and snow that raged 
about them. And as he noted all these things 
he saw coming down the broad avenue a fire- 
engine driven at the top of the horses’ speed 
and belching out a column of black smoke 
from its funnel, while the red-hot cinders, fall- 
ing from the ash-pan, sizzled and then went 
out in little breaths of steam in the snow that 
lay thick on the streets. And now a sudden 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


353 


shout arose from the men and women on the 
fire-escape, and was echoed by those in the 
street underneath. The boy looked down, 
startled by the loud cries, and saw the flames 
bursting out of the building at the sixth story, 
completely enveloping the frail iron stairway 
on which the hapless guests were going down, 
and cutting off the escape of those who still 
lingered on the upper floors. He saw at once 
the danger in which these people were, and 
realized that in their half-crazed condition 
they were liable to throw themselves to the 
ground. 

“ Chief ! ” he cried, running over to the 
scuttle where that officer stood, “there are a 
lot of people on the fire-escape and the flames 
are coming out right under them. Can’t we 
save them?” In an instant Chief Trask had 
run to the edge of the roof, and thrown him- 
self at full length on the snow covered sur- 
face so that he could look down as the boy 
had a few moments before. 

“ Hold on there ! ” he yelled to those who 
found themselves cut off, and who seemed 
ready to take the most desperate chances to 
save their lives. “Don’t jump! Stay right 
where you are and we’ll save you in a couple 
of minutes.” 


354 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


His words and the authoritative way in 
which they were uttered made an instant im- 
pression on the frightened men and women 
to whom they were addressed, and when 
these looked up above them and saw the hel- 
met of a fireman extended beyond the cor- 
nice, they felt assured that succor was at 
hand, and despite their awful position of peril 
they gave vent to a feeble cheer. 

“ Go back into the hotel ! ” screamed Chief 
Trask at the top of his lungs, for the wind 
was blowing so fiercely that it was with great 
difficulty he could make himself heard. 

“We can’t go back ! We were driven out 
by the smoke ! ” yelled a man in stentorian 
tones. 

“ I tell you to go back at once and I’ll come 
down with my men and take you out of the 
building,” rejoined the fireman in stern, com- 
manding tones, which left the frightened 
guests no alternative but to obey. Accord- 
ingly they climbed in at the windows from 
which they had escaped, and found that the 
rooms were no longer filled with smoke, as 
they had been before, because, although they 
did not know it, the open skylight and holes 
made in the roof by the firemen had drawn 
most of the smoke out of the building, and 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


355 


made it possible for people to move about 
in the upper stories without fear of suffoca- 
tion. 

Having seen that his orders were obeyed, 
Chief Trask lifted a scuttle which had not 
previously been touched by the firemen, and 
finding that very little smoke came up through 
the open hatchway, and also that the volumes 
that were pouring through the other apertures 
were not nearly as dense or as black as they 
were before, he summoned his men, and, 
leading the way himself, bade them fol- 
low into the interior of the hotel. Bruce 
went with him, leaving the scuttle open 
behind him. 

Meantime the firemen outside the building 
had not been idle. There were twelve fire- 
engines on the ground, four hook and ladder 
companies and a water-tower, and of these 
four engine companies had been ordered to 
enter the hotel by the main entrance, while 
four more had gone around to the side and 
rear entrances, and the others were at work 
in the streets throwing water against the burn- 
ing wall and also upon the roofs of the build- 
ings adjoining. As for the hook and ladder 
companies, some of them were in the building 
helping to tear down partitions and ceilings, 


356 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


while others had put up their scaling ladders 
and were going from window to window in 
order to save any people who might be im- 
prisoned in the rooms. Others had ascended 
to the roofs of the neighboring houses, and 
were lending efficient aid to the firemen by 
helping to haul the long lengths of hose up 
from the street. 

At this critical moment, and when the fire 
seemed to be making steady headway in spite 
of the desperate and diligent efforts of those 
who were fighting it, the sharp clang of a 
gong was heard on the street, and imme- 
diately the crowd which had gathered, despite 
the awful storm that was raging, parted in the 
middle. The policemen on guard saluted, 
and a wagon, drawn by a panting and sweating 
horse, dashed through the fire-lines and drew 
up suddenly at the curb-stone. The tall, griz- 
zled, and soldierly looking man who alighted 
was evidently a person of importance, for in 
an instant the deputy chief in command of 
operations appeared before him and saluted 
him in military style. 

The new comer was tall and well built. He 
wore a thick fireman’s overcoat and a helmet. 
His face was grave and stern, and smooth 
shaved, save for a grey moustache. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


357 


“ What have you sent out?” he demanded 
curtly of his deputy, as with a quick glance 
of his practiced eye he took in all the details 
of the scene in which he found himself. 

“ Third, sir.” 

Once more the chief of the fire department 
surveyed the burning building before him. 
Then, without a word, he turned on his heel 
and walked rapidly to the corner of the street, 
where he could have a better view of the fire 
and of its exposure on all sides. He was back 
again in less than a minute, and ordered his 
subordinate to send out a special call for two 
engines and a truck company, in order to 
locate more companies on the north side of 
the fire. Then he ordered the immediate 
erection of a water-tower on the eastern side, 
and stood silently regarding the men, as they 
placed it in position. 

About this time the fuel-wagons sent out 
by the companies which had arrived on the 
first and second alarms, began to come in 
loaded with cans of coal, and with small boys 
sitting on them ready to lift them to the 
ground and make themselves as useful as 
possible, simply for the sake of being inside 
the fire-lines and imagining themselves to be 
firemen. There is no fire in New York, no 


35 » 


THE THIRD AT ARM. 


matter at what time of the day or the night, 
that does not attract its swarm of boys, who 
are only too anxious to load and unload the 
fuel-cans, in order to get into the thick of the 
excitement. 


Chapter XXXIX. 


M EANWHILE our young hero — for hero 
he was truly showing himself to be — 
was following the chief into the interior of 
the dark and burning hotel. Groping their 
way along through the corridors, sometimes 
finding the smoke so thick and black that 
they were obliged to crawl along on their 
hands and knees, they made the best of their 
way to the place where the fire was raging. 
As they crawled along, they encountered a 
number of frightened guests, some of whom 
had come in from the fire-escape at the chief’s 
command, while nearly all of them were too 
much terrified to fairly understand what they 
were about. One lady, who had thrown a 
black silk dress over her night-clothes, carried 
a barking poodle-dog under her arm, while 
another clung tenaciously to a bird-cage, in 
which was a green parrot, although, as it 
afterwards transpired, she had left her gold 
watch and casket of jewels under the pillow 
of her bed. Some of these people cried, 
while others were silent, and one man. on 


3S9 


3 6 ° 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


whom they stumbled, was lying at full length 
in an open doorway, unconscious from the ef- 
fects of the smoke. 

At the chief’s command two firemen car- 
ried him at once to the window, where the 
fresh air soon revived him, and he was lower- 
ed by means of a life-line, tied under his arms, 
to the ground below. By the same method 
several other guests were saved, though 
others, including the two woman already 
named, positively refused to go down in such 
an undignified manner. 

While this was going on, Bruce, carrying 
his hook, and still following the members of 
his company, descended to the floor below, and 
then, hearing voices below him, went down 
one more flight of stairs, and encountered 
Captain Murphy’s men, who had made their 
way up from the lower entrance. At the 
chief’s command, Bruce and two other men 
went into one of the bedrooms, threw open a 
window, and, lowering a long line, called up- 
on the men below to attach their hose to it, 
so that they might draw it up. 

Chief Trask had often told Bruce that in 
the work of fighting a fire the most important 
thing is to discover the location of the flames, 
and not only subdue them but prevent them 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


361 


from spreading to other parts of the building. 
In order to do this, it is necessary to cover all 
exposed parts, and to saturate with water 
everything of an inflammable nature that lies 
near the seat of the conflagration. In this 
particular case, the snow which covered the 
roofs of the adjacent buildings prevented any- 
thing like danger from flying sparks and cin- 
ders, but had the fire taken place during dry, 
summer weather, one of the first duties of the 
firemen would have been to throw water on 
every roof and wall that lay within possible 
reach of the longest tongue of flame. 

Working in the interior of the hotel, the 
firemen, under Chief Trask’s direction, bent 
their energies toward arresting the possible 
spread of the flames, which had already gained 
such headway by means of the elevator shaft 
that it seemed to an inexperienced young fire- 
lad, like Bruce, an almost hopeless task to 
attack them. But with the aid of the hose 
which had been hauled up through the win- 
dow, all the partitions, floors and ceilings 
were speedily saturated with water, while the 
men tore down with their hooks a number of 
frame partitions, in order to prevent the 
spread of fire through the lath and plaster. 

“ Bruce ! ” cried Brophy, coming up sud- 


36 2 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


denly to where the boy was standing, “ the 
chief says for you to go right down and tell 
Captain Murphy’s engineer to give us more 
pressure.” 

“All right,” replied the boy promptly, and 
pulling his helmet well down and his coat 
collar up about his mouth, he started down 
the winding marble staircase that led to the 
lower floor. It was a perilous journey, for 
the smoke filled the air, and through the 
darkness he could see shooting tongues of 
flame and showers of sparks, showing that the 
fire was eating its way into the woodwork and 
consuming both walls and floors with terrible 
persistence. But Bruce was not the boy to 
be daunted by heavy smoke and crumbling 
floors, and besides he felt that he was a full- 
fledged fireman now, for had he not received 
his baptism of fire a year ago ? So he stum- 
bled down the stairs, clinging to the balus- 
trade, and soon the atmosphere grew clearer 
and the light stronger, and then he stepped 
on a marble floor covered with at least six 
inches of water, and realized that he was 
standing in what had been but a few hours 
before the gorgeous entrance to one of the 
most sumptuous hotels in New York. Clerks 
and servants were running to and fro, carry- 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


363 


in g out different articles of value, and Bruce 
noticed three or four red-helmeted insurance 
patrolmen, who were going about placing cov- 
ers over some of the more costly fittings, in 
order to protect them from the deluge of wa- 
ter from above. 

Through the entrance the boy rushed out 
into the street, and looked about him for 
Captain Murphy's engine. The snow was 
still falling, but it was so trampled under foot 
that the street looked like one huge puddle 
of black, filthy water, filled with enormous 
twisting and writhing serpents. These were 
the lengths of hose which were scattered 
about in all directions. 

The reporters had arrived by this time and 
passed the fire-lines, and he could see them 
darting about, with their note-books in their 
hands, jotting down bits of description and 
facts of interest regarding the fire, while one 
or two of them were sending messengers 
down-town, in order that their city editors 
might issue extra editions of the newspapers 
if they deemed the fire of sufficient import- 
ance. 

Bruce soon found the company he was in 
search of. The engineer, on receipt of the 
chief's orders, proceeded to lock his relief- 


364 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


valve, and give his fire an extra shake with 
his “slice-bar,” as he called the long iron 
poker used for stirring up the coal. Then he 
opened his throttle a little wider, at the same 
time placing his foot upon the hose leading 
to the roof, and giving it a sharp, vicious 
stamp, to find out if the increased pressure 
had made it any harder. 

Bruce stood beside him, an observant 
watcher of everything he did ; and then re- 
marked, as he turned his eyes to the burning 
building, “ It looks as if it were getting away 
from them.” 

“Well, it does look somewhat that way,” 
rejoined the engineer, unconcernedly, as he 
threw more coal into his engine. He was an 
old fireman, and had seen too many big blazes 
to be particularly stirred up by such an one 
as this. 

Bruce turned away, wishing that he could 
go to a fire in the same calm, professional 
mood, and bent his steps toward the building 
adjoining the hotel, through which Chief 
Trask’s company had first ascended to the 
roof. He had found the passage by the hotel 
staircase too perilous and difficult to be at- 
tempted again, particularly as the flames 
seemed to be making such fearful headway, 


THE THIRD ALARM. 365 

despite the utmost exertions of the men who 
were fighting them. But as he was crossing 
the street he turned his eyes upward, and 
caught a glimpse of Chief Trask climbing 
down the long ladder that stood against the 
side of the hotel. Bruce knew at once what 
it meant. His company had been ordered to 
abandon their position and return to the 
street. And so he determined to wait until 
they came down. He was standing on the 
corner, still undecided as to what course he 
should pursue, when he heard a faint scream, 
and on looking up he saw in one of the win- 
dows on the fifth floor, a slender, white-robed 
figure. Some one, a young girl it seemed to 
him, was in imminent danger, and it looked 
as if she were preparing to climb over the 
sill and throw herself into the street. 

“ Don’t jump ! stay where you are ! ” yelled 
the young fire-lad at the top of his lungs. 

The young girl in the window heard him, 
for she paused and shouted some unintelli- 
gible answer, to which he replied — for a sud- 
den idea had taken possession of him — 
“ Stay where you are! I’ll be with you in a 
minute ! ” 

There was no time for hesitation or reflec- 
tion now. Trained as he was to the immense 


366 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


value which the smallest fraction of time pos- 
sesses in the eyes of a true fireman, he realized, 
for the first time in his life, how precious even 
a single second may be. A hook and ladder 
truck stood within ten feet of him, and it 
seemed to the boy that within one of these 
precious seconds he had reached it, and seized 
one of the light scaling ladders that hung at 
its side. With this in his hands he rushed 
toward the hotel, attached the hooks at the 
ladder’s end to the sill of a window directly 
under that in which the white-robed young 
girl was standing, and had just placed his foot 
on the lower rung, when some one seized him 
by the shoulder. 

“ Hold on there ! You’ve forgotten some- 
thing ! ” 

It was one of the reporters, and as Bruce 
heard him he realized that he had forgotten 
to put on a belt and provide himself with a 
life-line. There was the belt with its big iron 
hook attached to the ladder, and while he was 
fastening it about his waist, the reporter ran 
to the truck, and came flying back with a 
life-line coiled about his arm. 

“ Up with you ! ” he cried, as he handed it 
to the boy, and added, as Bruce, with his eyes 
fixed on the window above him, and the life- 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


367 


line held firmly in his hand, began the ascent, 
“ and may God bless you ! ” 

Then the reporter jumped back to the 
other side of the street, and, lifting his voice 
above the noises that filled the air, cried, 
“ Stay where you are ! he’s coming right up 
to you ! ” But even as he spoke the room in 
which the young girl stood was lit up with a 
flash of light, and then the smoke came in 
through the blazing door, and began to pour 
out of the window above her head in a dark, 
heavy stream. 

On went Bruce to the top of his ladder. 
Then, throwing his leg over the window-sill, 
he hastily pulled up his frail wooden stairway, 
and by the exercise of all the coolness, skill 
and rapidity at his command, fastened the 
hooks over the window-sill of the room to 
which he was climbing. Then on and up 
again through the smoke, which was gaining 
strength every moment, and was whirled into 
his face by the pitiless storm of wind. The 
heat was terrible, and the side of the building 
so hot that it blistered his hands to touch it. 
But he gave no thought to smoke, flame or 
heat. His only hope was to reach that win- 
dow above him before it was too late. And 
to the young girl who stood there in peril of 


368 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


her life, every second seemed a full hour, un- 
til at last the helmeted head rose above the 
level of the sill. 

Bruce had all his wits about him now, for he 
knew that he stood in need of every particle 
of nerve and courage and decision that he 
possessed, and that a single slip or false step 
on his part meant death, perhaps, to them 
both — to him as well as to the white-robed, 
slender girl, who was leaning, half fainting, 
against the window-frame, her fair hair falling 
in a wild tangle down her shoulders, her 
hands clasped, and her lips moving as if in 
prayer. 

With a quick bound the young fireman 
scrambled over the window-sill and into the 
room. Then taking his life-line, he began to 
uncoil it, and, stretching out his arms to the 
young girl, said, in a calm, steady voice : 
“ Don’t be frightened ! ” It was then that 
their eyes met for the first time, and Bruce 
Decker found himself standing face to face 
with Laura Van Kuren, while the storm of 
wind and snow was raging outside and the 
smoke and flame were creeping up behind 
him. 

His clothing was torn and soiled, his face 
and hands grimy with sweat and smoke. The 


» 



A single slip or false step on his part meant death 


























































































. 



























THE THIRD ALARM. 


369 


snow and the ashes had fallen upon him un- 
heeded, and the flames had singed and burnt 
his clothing in a dozen places. But never did 
the bravest, handsomest soldier on parade 
seem to any one as heroic and courageous and 
manly as did Bruce to the young girl who 
almost fell into his outstretched arms, while 
she murmured, “ Oh ! Bruce, it is you! I 
thought you would never come.” 

But the boy uttered never a word, and a 
sharp pang pierced Laura’s heart as she 
remembered their last meeting in the street, 
when she had been ashamed of him. She 
was not ashamed of him now, and as she 
rested in his strong arms, with her cheek 
against his wet coat, she thanked Heaven that 
it was he, and not the little French boy, 
Victor, who had come to save her. And now 
Bruce had slipped the life-line around her, 
and tied it firmly under her arms, and, having 
taken a turn or two of the slack about his 
belt-hook, disengaged her clinging arms from 
about his neck, and prepared to lower her to 
the sidewalk. 

“Aren’t you coming too, Bruce?” she 
asked, faintly. 

“ Afterwards,” was all he said. And then 
she was swung off into mid-aid, and felt her- 


370 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


self going down through the smoke and the 
flames and the storm, and she knew no more 
until she found herself in the arms of a 
brawny fireman on the pavement. 

Her first thought was of the boy who had 
saved her. But when she looked up at the 
window from which she had come she could 
see nothing, for the flames had burst out from 
beneath it, cutting off every hope of escape. 

“ Has he come down? Is he safe?” she 
asked. But there was no reply, for those 
that stood about her looked at one another 
with expressive glances and shook their heads, 
and then turned their eyes toward the awful 
flames which were sweeping with resistless 
force up the side of the building. 

Laura closed her eyes and covered her face 
with her hands, and just then a mighty shout 
rent the air. The boy had appeared at an- 
other window — he had made his line fast to 
the sill and thrown the loose end down into 
the street ! And now he was climbing out of 
the window, and a great silence fell upon the 
crowd as, with one look at what lay before 
him, he deftly twisted the frail rope about his 
belt-hook, and, with a firm grasp on the line 
below, plunged into the whirlwind of flame 
and smoke beneath him. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


37 * 


“ The boy’s all right, miss ; he’s just come 
down from another window. He’s standing 
there on the pavement,” were the words that 
fell upon the young girl’s ear. She heard 
them, but made no response — her overtaxed 
strength had given way. 

And now it became apparent to others be- 
side Captain Murphy’s engineer that the 
great hotel was doomed. The chief of the 
department, who had been a silent and ap- 
parently unmoved spectator of all that has 
just been described, realized it, too, and ut- 
tered the simple command : “ Back out ! ” 
The order was given none too soon, and as 
the long lines of hose were withdrawn, the 
firemen broke them up into convenient 
lengths and attached them to the four-inch 
stand-pipe on the deck of the water-tower, 
while others made preparations to take posi- 
tions on the adjacent buildings, in order to 
operate the Siamese streams. Then the men 
swarmed up and through the houses near by 
bearing hose-hoists and roof-ropes, and in a 
few minutes they were hauling long lines of 
pipe up over the eaves of the houses, and 
fastening them securely, by means of the roof- 
ropes, to chimney and scuttle. Two, three, 
and four way Siamese connections were 


372 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


quickly placed in position, and connected with 
the huge brass stand-pipe with incredible 
rapidity, and from these great volumes of 
water were poured against and into the 
doomed building and upon the roofs of the 
houses next to it. 

And now an awful crash, and a huge pyra- 
mid of smoke, sparks and flames told the 
watchers that the roof had fallen in. Soon 
afterwards the front wall fell, and then the 
two side walls went down, leaving a huge 
mass of cinders, bricks and ashes, where the 
great hotel had stood when the sun went 
down. 

The new day was just beginning to dawn, 
when the welcome order came from Chief 
Trask to the various companies which had 
been operating under him, “ Report to the 
Chief,” and each captain went at once to 
where the officer stood, surveying the scene 
of desolation, and repeating the chief’s order. 

“Take up,” was the silent man’s rejoinder, 
and the wearied men gathered up their hose, 
placed it in well-ordered layers in the hose 
wagon, unblanketed the horses, and, care- 
fully picking their way among the lengths of 
hose which were still lying on the ground, re- 
turned to their quarters. 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


373 


Meantime, under orders of the chief of the 
department, three or four spare battalion 
engines moved into advantageous positions, 
and to these were attached the lines of the 
companies at work. A detail of engineers 
and men was quickly made, and then the brief 
order to “ take up ” sent the others away from 
the scene of the fire. As the day broke, men 
and women going to their daily toil stopped 
to look at the smoking heap, on which two or 
three streams were falling from the spare 
engines. By noon the snow had fallen upon 
the ruins, and but a single hydrant line re- 
mained in operation. 


Chapter XXXX. 


Mr. Van Kuren arose at a very early hour 
the next morning and came down stairs to the 
dining room with the intention of taking a hasty 
breakfast and departing at once for his office. 
But despite the unseasonable hour his host 
was there before him, looking so pale and worn 
that his guest inquired anxiously if he had 
passed a sleepless night or if anything unusual 
had happened to disturb him. 

“ My dear Horace,” said Mr. Dexter with 
great earnestness, “I hardly slept at all last 
night, for not only have I been completely up- 
set by these matters which we have already 
discussed, but this morning about two o’clock 
I noticed a bright glare on the southern skies 
which soon assumed such proportions that I 
knew there must be a very large fire some- 
where in the heart of the city. As a general 
thing fires do not cause me any uneasiness but 
what could I think of last night except that 
hotel in which your daughter was sleeping, 
with none of her own flesh and blood near her ? 
For fully three hours I sat watching the light of 


37* 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


375 


that conflagration, which must have been a 
very large one, and I could think of nothing 
but Laura. I got up early hoping to find 
something in the newspapers that might rid 
my mind of worry ; but the servant tells me 
that the snow has fallen so as to make the 
streets almost impassable, and the boy who 
supplies us has not yet appeared. If he does 
not come very soon I shall send my own man 
to the nearest news-stand for I assure you that 
I have been very much worried.” 

“ My dear old friend,” said Mr. Van Kuren 
gently as he placed his hand affectionately on 
the old gentleman’s shoulder, “you really must 
not allow such trivial things to worry you and 
keep you awake. I went to that hotel princi- 
pally because I was assured that it was 
thoroughly fire-proof and you may depend upon 
it that that fire last night was miles further 
down town. However, you may rest assured 
that if anything alarming has happened, I will 
send you word at once. But whatever you 
do,’’ he added, “ be sure you say nothing of 
this to my sister. The shock or the anxiety 
might prove a very serious matter to her in 
her present condition of health.” 

“ I have another request to make of you, 
Horace,” continued Mr. Dexter speaking with 


376 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


even more earnestness than before, “ and that 
is that you go to the engine house in which 
that young man Decker is employed and learn 
from his own lips all that you can in regard to 
his family. If you find that what Sam hinted at 
is true, bring him here without a moment’s de- 
lay. I am a very old man, Horace, but this is 
a matter which must be settled at once for I 
can bear the suspense no longer. , ’ 

Mr. Van Kuren readily gave the required 
promise, and having eaten a light breakfast he 
entered Mr. Dexter’s carriage and was driven 
off in the direction of the Elevated railroad. 
Purchasing a copy of a morning paper, he en- 
tered the car and settled himself in a corner to 
read the news. As he unfolded the damp 
sheet his eye fell upon a headline in heavy 
black type which told him at once that some- 
thing exciting had occured. The next moment 
the color left his cheeks and his hands began 
to shake so that he could scarcely read. The 
great hotel in which he and his family had 
lodged had been destroyed by fire and a num- 
ber of the guests were known to have perished. 
There was no list of the missing or of the 
saved, and he realized that it would be 
impossible for him to learn any further 
details without going himself to the scene 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


377 


of the disaster. He read the short description 
of the fire through, and then the paper slipped 
from his hands and fell unheeded to the floor 
of the car, while he sat literally stunned by 
what he had just learned aud apparently unable 
to collect his thoughts or make up his mind 
what to do. 

Other people about him, who had noticed 
the bright glare on the sky the night be- 
fore were talking about the fire, and discuss- 
ing the probable number of the missing. It 
was this that roused him from his stupor and he 
sat bolt upright in his seat, picked up the paper 
again and once more carefully perused the ac- 
count of the conflagration. He was still fully 
two miles from 42d St., the station nearest to 
the great heap of cinders, bricks and ashes in 
which perhaps his own daughter was buried. 

The train seemed to crawl at a snail’s pace 
and it was in vain that he tried to divert 
his attention, from what he had just learned by 
reading the other portions of the newspaper. 
Again and again his eyes would turn to the 
awful black headline on the front page, and 
finally he threw the sheet to the floor in despair, 
folded his arms across his breast and endeavored 
to think of something else. But there was one 
figure which he could not blot out of his mind. 


37 § 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


It was that of his daughter standing by an open 
window with clothes and hair ablaze and 
screaming for some one to save her. 

At last the train stopped at 42d St., and 
the distracted father flew down the steps to the 
sidewalk, called to a hack-man who was stand- 
ing near and bade him drive him at full speed 
to the scene of the fire. The snow was still 
falling when he reached his destination and a 
large crowd had gathered to view the smoking 
ruin. A number of firemen were there and 
there were still two or three streams in opera- 
tion. Three well dressed gentlemen were 
standing on the corner of the street watching 
everything attentively, and as Mr. Van Kuren 
alighted from his cab he recognized one of the 
group as Mr. Peter Dewsnap, an old acquaint- 
ance of his. 

“ Big fire this ” exclaimed Mr. Dewsnap as 
the other approached him, “and Pm afraid 
there are a good many bodies down there 
under that heap of bricks and mortar. There, 
they’re bringing a body out now,” he went on 
eagerly, never thinking what his words meant 
to the man whose only daughter had been a 
guest in the hotel the night before. The crowd 
parted to make way for four men who bore 
between them a rough stretcher on which lay a 
shapeless object covered with a blanket. 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


379 


“ What’s that ? ” demanded Mr. Van Kuren, 
hoarsely, as he placed a detaining hand on the 
arm of one of the bearers, “ a man, or a woman, 
or a child ? ” 

“ Man, sir,” was the answer. 

“ Thank God for that ! ” exclaimed the father 
so fervently that Mr. Dewsnap glanced at him 
with a sudden apprehension and exclaimed, 
“ Did you have any friends or relatives in the 
hotel ? ” 

“ My daughter slept here last night, and I do 
not know whether she is alive or not this morn- 
ing,” was the reply uttered in tones of heart- 
rending despair that had an instant effect 
upon Mr. Dewsnap’s kindly and sympathetic 
heart. 

“ What ! ” he exclaimed, “your daughter 
in that hotel and you do not know whether she 
was saved or not? Was she a young lady or 
merely a child ? ” 

“ Between the two,” replied Mr. Van Kuren 
sadly. 

“ I wonder if it could have been that young 
girl who was saved by that young friend of 
yours,” exclaimed one of Mr. Dewsnap’s com- 
panions, none other than the honorable Mr. 
Rupert Doubter who has already been intro- 
duced to our readers, and was now an enthu- 


i8o 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


siastic admirer of and believer in the New York 
Fire Department. 

“ Very likely, indeed,” cried Mr. Dewsnap 
excitedly. “ She seemed to be a young girl of 
about fifteen, and she was lowered from a 
window in the fifth floor by a young friend of 
mine and very proud we all are of him, too. 
The chiid had been left in the care of her gov- 
erness, who slept in an adjoining room and was 
found lying on the floor unconscious from the 
effect of the smoke. She had probably started 
to go into the next room and awaken her young 
charge and had fallen down, overcome by the 
dense clouds of smoke. Both she and the young 
girl were taken to that hotel on the next block 
and are probably there now, but really, if you 
could have seen the way that boy — ” but Mr. 
Van Kuren was already on his way to the 
hotel and out of hearing. 

Ten minutes later he was standing in one of 
the rooms in the hotel with his child clasped 
tightly in his arms and she was saying to him : 
“ Oh, papa, if it had not been for him I would 
have been burnt up. I had just given myself 
up for lost when he came up the ladder, put a 
rope around my waist and let me down. I 
cannot bear to think of the way we have treated 
him and especially the way I treated him when 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


381 

1 met him in the street the other day.” And 
Laura hid her head in her father’s breast and 
sobbed aloud. 

“Treated whom? My darling,” demanded 
Mr. Van Kuren. “Who was it that saved 
you ? ” 

“Why, Bruce Decker, papa. Who else 
could it be? ” 


Chapter XXXXI. 


D OWN at Chief Trask’s quarters Bruce was 
quietly resting after the excitement and 
fatigue of the night before, when to his surprise 
he saw Mr. Van Kuren cross the threshold, 
and he was even more surprised when that 
gentleman seized him by the hand and with an 
emotion that' showed itself in his voice as well 
as his face, thanked him for his heroism in 
saving Laura from the flames. The young 
boy’s cheeks burned as he listened to the 
older man’s expressions of praise and gratitude. 
He had been so accustomed to hearing of and 
sometimes seeing deeds of gallantry that it had 
not occurred to him that he had done anything 
remarkable. That it had been his good fortune 
to render a great service to Laura Van Kuren 
was enough for him, and he wanted no other 
reward than her gratitude. 

“And now, Bruce,” said Mr. Van Kuren, 
“ there is a matter of some importance which I 
wish to discuss with you. Will you please tell 
me what you know about your father’s family, 
and what sort of a looking man your father 
was.” 


38* 


THE THIRD ALARM. 




Bruce replied as best he could, and then 
Mr. Van Kuren went on : “ Do you remem- 
ber if your father had a little grey patch on 
the back of his head ? ” 

“Yes, sir, and so have I,” replied the boy 
readily, as he took off his hat and turned 
partly around. 

Mr. Van Kuren then gazed intently not 
only at the slight patch of grey, but also 
at the boy’s honest, intelligent face, and con- 
tinued : “ If you had a picture of your father — ’ 9 

“Why, there’s one here, sir,” exclaimed 
Bruce, as he led the way to a large photograph 
of a group of firemen, in which his father was 
one. 

“ There is no sort of a doubt about it,” said 
Mr, Van Kuren as his eye fell upon the por- 
trait of Frank Decker, “and I am very glad to 
congratulate you, my boy, on your good for- 
tune.’ , 

“ I wish you would tell me what all this 
means,” exclaimed Bruce excitedly, “for to- 
morrow Pm going to start for England, and 
if I have any good fortune I would like to en- 
joy it at once.” 

“I can tell you in a very few words my 
boy” replied Mr. Van Kuren. “ Your father’s 
name was Dexter, not Decker. And he was 


3 8 4 


THE THIRD ALARM 


the son of an old gentleman who lives not far 
from me in the upper part of, the city and 
whom you have met I believe. Through the 
cunning and deceit of one of the most treach- 
erous scoundrels whom I have ever known 
your father became estranged from your 
grandfather, and I suppose took the name of 
Decker because he did not wish to have his 
old friends know what he was doing. He and 
I were boys together aud although it is more 
than twenty years since I last saw him, I can 
readily recognize him in that picture. It was 
through the merest accident that your grand- 
father came to suspect your identity and the 
fact that you can dimly remember the house and 
grounds uptown, convinces me that you must 
have been taken there in your early childhood. 
Very likely your father went up there from 
time to time in order to re-visit unobserved the 
scenes of his boyhood. Well, you must come 
at once for your grandfather is waiting to see 
you.” 

To say that Bruce was surprised at what he 
heard is but a mild way of expressing the sen- 
sations that filled his breast as he listened to 
the words of his father’s old friend. It would be 
nearer the truth to say that he was stunned by 
the recital. He said nothing however, but put 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


385 


on his coat in a dazed manner and was about 
to accompany Mr. Van Kuren uptown without 
even stopping to obtain permission of his su- 
perior, when he stopped suddenly and said, 
“ But I am going away to-morrow to England 
to get a fortune that was left to my father and 
which through his death has come to me. Per- 
haps you can tell me what relatives I have over 
there.” 

“ Relatives in England ! ” cried Mr. Van 
Kuren, “ I know your family, root and branch, 
my boy, and you have absolutely no connections 
in England, that is to say not on your father’s 
side. Who told you about this fortune and ad- 
vised you to go and get it ? ” 

“ I was told about it by a man whose real 
name I think is Dexter, and who keeps a sort 
of a loan office in Eldridge Street.” 

“I think I understand it all now,” said Mr. 
Van Kuren significantly, “ that man was the 
same one who made the trouble between your 
father and all his friends, and I have no doubt 
he will be very glad to get you out of the way 
in order that he may inherit all of your grand- 
father’s property. Did he kindly offer to pay 
your fare to England ? ” 

“Yes, sir,” replied the boy, “and he told me 
it might be necessary for me to stay there a 


336 


THE THIRD ALARM . 


month or two, during which time he would pay 
all my expenses.” 

“Yes, it would serve his purpose very well to 
get you out of the way for two or three months 
and then levy blackmail on your grandfather. 
But thank Heaven there is time to put a stop 
to that.” 

“ Hey, boss,” said a piping voice, and Bruce 
turned round to find Skinny the Swiper stand- 
ing beside him with his face and clothes as 
grimy as if he had been working all night at a 
fire. He was panting with the exertion of a 
swift run, and as soon as he could regain his 
breath he said, “ I’was up ter dat hotel fire last 
night, an’ dat Scar-faced Charley got burnt up. 
Dey jest dragged him outter de ashes an’ I 
seen his body.” 

“What, dead!’' exclaimed Bruce, and then 
turning to Mr. Van Kuren he said, “that man 
who wanted me to go to England was burnt up 
in the big fire last night. I never knew that 
he lived in that hotel.” 

•‘He probably went there when his uncle 
turned him out of doors,” explained Mr. Van 
Kuren, and then added, “Well, he is dead now 
and it is best to let his faults be buried with 
him. We will go up now and see your grand- 
father.” 


THE THIRD ALARM. 


3 8 7 


The meeting between the fine old gentleman 
and his newly found grandson was an affecting 
one. Mr. Dexter’s eyes brightened and his 
cheeks flushed when he heard of Bruce’s brav- 
ery at the fire, and it was with no small pride 
that he introduced the boy to his friends and 
the members of his household as his grandson, 
the son of his dearly beloved son, Frank. 

“ And now, my boy,” said the old gentleman, 
after they had had a long and affectionate talk 
together, “if you will go into the drawing room 
you will find someone there, I think, who 
wishes to see you.” 

Bruce did as he was desired, and as he en- 
tered the room a young girl rose from her seat 
by the window and came towards him holding 
out both hands. “ Can you ever forgive me, 
Bruce, for the way I treated you that day ? ” 

Those who have followed the fortunes of the 
young fire lad as described in this book do not 
need to be told that there was no room in his 
magnanimous heart for any feeling of resent- 
ment toward the young girl who stood before 
him now. Nor is it necessary to say that the 
whole of the Van Kuren family received Bruce 
with every manifestation of gratitude and with 
assurances that henceforth he was to consider 
himself as one of their own flesh and blood. 


388 THE THIRD ALARM. 

But in his new sphere, as the grandson and 
heir of the aristocratic and kindly old gentleman 
whose name he was now to bear, Bruce did not 
forget the friends who had been kind to him dur- 
ing his days of service at the Hook and Ladder 
quarters. And one of the first things that he 
did after he had been installed in the big house 
near the Harlem River was to send substantial 
tokens of his regard to Chief Trask, Charley 
Weyman, Tom Brophy and Mr. Dewsnap. 

Nor was Skinny the Swiper forgotten. And 
when the little newsboy started for the Walcott 
homestead dressed in a neat new suit of clothes 
and wearing, for perhaps the first time in his 
life, a new and fashionable hat, very few of those 
who had associated with him in New York 
would have recognized him. 

“Well,” remarked Chief Trask to Tom Bro- 
phy as the two sat together at the quarters, 
“ the boy deserves all his good luck, but you 
mark my words, you’ll see him back in the de- 
partment again before he’s a year older. He’s 
just like his father, a fireman born and bred.” 


THE END. 






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